


The Sailor and the Shadow

by arourallis



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Historical, Dragonese (How to Train Your Dragon), Engagement, Family Bonding, Fatherhood, Found Family, Historical Figures, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Implied animal abuse, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Parent(s), Love Confessions, M/M, More-than-Canon-Typical Blood and Violence, PTSD exists, Past Child Abuse/Neglect, Weapons-Grade UST, anachronistic samoyed, no dragons die on-screen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 384,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22615012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arourallis/pseuds/arourallis
Summary: Its easy to forget in the dark corners of the North, that the world is a very, very big place. Getting kidnapped in the middle of a supply run was Eret's first reminder, apparently Northerners aren't as appreciated as they used to be. But the man meant to 'question' him was the second, and far more enthralling. This 'Shadow' did ask questions, but not the ones he expected. And it left Eret wondering, if life under Drago Bludvist's thumb was really all he could look forward to. One strange, naively hopeful question might well have been what saved his life, when the Dragon Riders came.“Surely dragons can’t all be so bad?”Eret has one hell of a life-debt to repay. Once Berk is back on its feet, and winter is over. At least it won't be half as hard on the back of a dragon, and hopefully... the Shadow will be waiting.
Relationships: Eret (How to Train Your Dragon)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 35
Kudos: 37





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Eret adjusted his grip on the tiller while the deckhands battened the sails, easing the ship through the rocky outcrops that protected the port. The Shetlands only just peeked out of the mist, but this was no sleepy and gentle retreat for warmth and wine and women. Pesky distraction that, there was _work_ to do and first they had to worry about getting to the docks. Supplies were running low at the fort and far as it may be, the prices were worth the trip of almost a fortnight. Dragon parts were as good as gold and they had _plenty;_ hides, skulls, teeth, and spines filled the chests on the deck. Drago Bludvist didn't buy corpses after all.

They moored at the scant dock, tethering the ship to the huge wooden pylons. His crew strode ashore with their packs full of goods to trade for rope, tools, food, cloth… whatever they could get. But he stayed aboard to chart the return trip, tedious as that was. The winds might be against them, but a current just to the east would make up for that. He had to organize the hold as well and make some room for the stores they would be taking on, hopefully enough to last the summer. Drago would be expecting them soon, and they couldn't fail him twice. He scratched at the barely-healed scar on his chest, anxiety burning in his throat. It _hurt._

***

The sun sank lower, but a bank of low clouds rolled in and snuffed it's light early as the wind rose. It smelled like a storm. The people of the village were reduced to shadowy outlines as they wandered their way through the dark, but a dozen of those figures flitted closer and closer to the docks. They didn't take kindly to strangers these days, not after what happened to the south. If this was a pack of raiders, they would be going no further and that required _questioning._ One figure forged ahead, slipping aboard quick as lightning and quiet as death, grabbing a skein of rope so helpfully left out. There was only one man holed up in the cabin, though he was _huge_ as most Northmen were. Surprise was key. The figure hunkered down in a shadow by the door and knocked over a pile of… well he wasn't sure what they were, tight bundles of stones and rope? They fell with a clatter, rolling all over the deck and a chair scraped across the floor inside the room. Boards creaked with each slow, heavy footstep, the door eased open, and the Northman peered out. He took one step forward, then two, and the figure struck. He grappled the Northman’s hand with a quick lasso, catching the reactive punch with another loop and lashed the man’s wrists together. The Northman kicked but the figure slipped to the side, flicking the rope overhead and around the man’s sides, knotting and _pulling,_ slamming the man’s arms into his own gut. The Northman grunted, stumbled and with a push, he fell. From there it was just a matter of binding the man’s ankles with the last lengths of rope and rolling him on his side so he could breathe. The rest of the shadows streamed in from the dock, hopping aboard to cast off the mooring lines and sail out to sea.

Their cove was close, but not close _enough._ They had to gag the Northman just minutes into their escape, not that any of the townsfolk would’ve come to his aid. The 'borrowed' ship rounded a long spear of cliffs west of the town to a sheltered cove, and the entrance was so narrow the ship barely squeezed in. The spare men winched in the sails, threw an anchor overboard, and dropped a rope ladder to the skiff that had rowed out to meet them. Two men climbed down and braced themselves to catch the Northman as he was unceremoniously pitched over the rail, though they almost dropped him anyway through his furious thrashing. They had a good laugh at his expense on the slow row back to shore, after one of their larger men sat on him. Only when they beached the boat did someone dare untie the stranger’s ankles and force him out of the boat at swordpoint.

***

Eret foundered on numb legs, gnashing at the gag forced between his teeth. Whoever these men were, they had intentions _other_ than robbery. They shoved him up the beach, even half-dragged him under the arms when his knees gave out to a path through ragged dunes, until they crested a hill where little more than a campfire was visible in the deepening darkness. He could _just_ see slumping old shacks and tents, maybe half a barn in the distance, but what concerned him most were the hooded figures around the fire, staring him down. Their muttering ceased as he was forced to his knees, his own sword leveled at his throat.

“Found him in that ugly ship at port!” one man declared, drawing back his hood, “Looks Northern to me, but _Ulfur_ disagrees.”

“You've seen more Northman ships than anyone, how many of them had two sails?” presumably-Ulfur protested.

“He seems like the Shadow’s type, let's just let _him_ do the questioning.” another man at the fire snickered.

A laugh rounded the camp and one of the seated figures slapped another across the back. That man said nothing. He rose and strode forward in one fluid motion, taking the sword from his underling and pressed the flat of the blade to Eret’s cheek, forcing him to turn his head one way then the other. He breathed hard around the gag, _knowing_ how sharp he kept his weapons- but the edge didn't so much as whisper across his skin. He tried to stare defiantly at this ‘Shadow’, but the man was completely hidden in his cloak, there was nothing to look _at._ The Shadow might've glanced up to the men that held his ropes, and jerked his head minutely to the right, towards one of the less-ramshackle huts. The figures hauled him to his feet and half-dragged him away, still kicking uselessly and his heart _pounded._ What the hell were they planning? Sure he was _from_ the north, but what were these ‘Northmen’ they were so bent out of shape about?

The figures shoved him into the shack, parting to let the Shadow enter behind him. He stumbled briefly, but wheeled and nearly walked into the gleaming point of his own sword. The Shadow looked back over his shoulder.

“Leave me.” he growled, voice low with an unplaceable accent.

The men outside cackled, throwing jibes behind them as they went.

“Teach him a _lesson,_ aye?”

The Shadow huffed and in the faint light of the campfire, used the smoldering stick he'd brought along to light up a lantern and candle. Everyone outside was armed, he was still bound so grabbing the sword would be useless and now, the Shadow was closing the door. And setting the sword aside. And pulling his hood back. At first, Eret wasn't sure what he was seeing. It was like the darkness _clung_ to this man's skin- no. Somehow, his skin was so dark it was _nearly_ black.

“Here, sit-” the Shadow gestured to a rough-hewn stool.

He stood defiantly, breath coming hard around the cloth gag.

“Fair enough… Let's get this off. What were they _thinking?”_ Shadow muttered.

He kept still, eyes only leaving the man when he rounded out of sight, flicking to his sword instead. It was close, if he was quick- The gag tugged, pulling his head back a fraction as it shifted and pulled free from his mouth, flying into a far corner with a hiss of disgust from the Shadow. He grimaced, working his jaw and licking his cracked lips, but that only made them sting worse. Before he could say a word, the rope around his middle likewise fell loose after a little picking at the knots. What was this fool doing? As soon as he could move his arms he spun on his heel, seized the smaller man by the bulk of his tunic and cloak and lifted him clean off his feet.

“What the _hell_ are you doing?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

Shadow blinked slow and catlike, not the least bit concerned. A torturer wouldn't free a prisoner, not one twice their size and especially not for the _worst_ of intentions.

“Shall I untie your hands?” Shadow asked coolly, voice so rich it was almost a purr.

Exhaling hard through his nose, he set the man down and watched intently as the rest of the rope fell away. He rubbed his aching wrists, glaring at the Shadow as he crossed the room to the small table, where he poured what might’ve been wine into a cup and tore bread from a covered basket. He offered both, then took some for himself, drinking long from the wine. Still wary, he sat and took a tentative sip. After all, it would take one _hell_ of a trickster to poison a whole flagon and still partake himself. Those few drops washed over his tongue and his eyes flickered to the cup, brows rising in shock. Yes it _was_ wine, but utterly unlike anything he had ever tasted.

 _“Pomegranate.”_ Shadow said, sensing his question, “From a land far away, where snow rarely falls and the land is always lush. But that is not what you've asked. Despite how my allies… _jest_ , I will not touch you. It's obvious you aren't a raider.”

Eret stared, long and unblinking over the rim of his cup. Shadow drank deeply again.

“Men came from the north in their swan-ships, laying waste as they saw fit. We aim to stop them here if we can, and you aren't the type of man we are looking for. Once the camp is asleep, I will take you to your boat. Can you sail it clear on your own?”

Shadow’s eyes were so soft, he found his fury waning.

“I can manage, yeah…” he muttered.

Shadow nodded, then paused, tilting an ear towards the entrance as he squinted. He moved to the door, opening it a crack just in time for a screaming gale to nearly throw him across the room. Eret was there in an instant, throwing his weight against the shoddy wood. Outside, men ran after tents and embers from the fire scattered to the four winds, no one could pay them any mind. With one great heave they shut the door, and Shadow slammed the cross-bar down, breathless from the shock.

“Well, _that’s_ not sailing weather.” he deadpanned, staggering back a step, “The harbor is sheltered, your boat should be fine until this blows itself out. The winds are common here.”

Shadow returned to his desk to re-light the candle, dragging a hand through the short, coiled cords of his hair. It was _different_ as far as Eret could see, dense and curly almost like sheep’s wool even where it was shaved short at the sides of his head. This was a handsome man, he thought, likely a little younger than himself, strong in the jaw with a broad nose, fine cheekbones, and the unnerving eyes of a falcon. Those dark eyes seemed to pry him apart as he returned to his seat and meager meal.

“I can see the questions in you.” Shadow said, cool but knowing, “You wouldn't be the first. But, nothing passes a storm like a story.”

He paused with his mouth full of bread, and looked away a little guiltily.

“You caught me.” he grumbled around his food. But he thought as he chewed, and swallowed. “If you're from that far south, how did you get up _here?”_

Curse his love of the sea. But if there were new adventures to be had, he wanted to know.

“One step at a time.” Shadow smirked over his cup.

Eret stared flatly, raising one eyebrow.

“I… wandered, here and there.” he answered more honestly, “Looking for someplace that felt right until I ran out of land.”

“Well, once you get in a boat there's plenty more. You'll get to the Barbaric Archipelago eventually, and it's not safe to go _there_ alone or unprepared. They don't call it that for nothing.” he shook his head, but found Shadow staring at his hands and arms.

“Is that where the scars are from?”

“Most of them, yeah…” he muttered, fighting the urge to scratch his chest.

“If it's so dangerous, why do you stay?” Shadow stared, squinting minutely.

“Trapping is the family business, and I can't exactly leave. I work for someone very powerful, and if he has his way there's not a corner of the world I could run to. I won't leave my men behind either. We’ll just… do our best to survive.”

Eret sighed long and low through his nose. He shouldn't be venting to a stranger like this, he would be gone after the storm. There was no point… except to pass the time. It's not like they would see each other again.

“I thought the same thing once, but now I am here.” Shadow said simply.

He shrugged, eyes locked on his cup. It was nearly empty, but little as there had been it must've been strong, the wine _thrummed_ in his blood. Yes, it was just the wine, leaving his lips loose…

“What was it like? This journey of yours.” he asked. To hell with it.

Shadow looked up with the barest flicker of surprise, head tilting.

“Well... I lived on the coast of the Imperial Sea, working in my father’s shop making- I think they call it ‘glass’ up here, sand melted until it can be molded and shaped like clay. But… something _called_ me, in a way I can't explain, pulling me north like a tide. I don't know why, but it's still _there.”_ he shook his head, drawing a deep breath, “But I saw many things. The bones of the Roman empire, churches covered in gold, castles barely clinging to mountainsides, temples to forgotten gods… Meadows of wildflowers as far as the eye can see, mountains like dragon’s teeth, volcanoes covered in orchards and grapevines, climbing above the clouds to watch the sun sink below them-”

Eret couldn't help but fall under his spell. Yes he had stories of his own, exploits and daring deeds but now the archipelago sounded so… bleak. The Shadow retrieved a rough-bound sheaf of parchment, almost a book, and opened it to a page of sketches. Buildings, mountains, even a dragon, but it wasn't one he recognized. Long, lanky, a spiny crest…

“When did you see this?” he asked, tapping the small image.

“That? Must be… maybe 6 months ago? Or 7. It was very far away from here.” Shadow sighed, “I heard stories as a boy, but I thought them gone, if they ever were. Maybe curiosities in the cages of fat nobles, for those that were left. I almost thought myself _mad_ when it flew right out of the mountains…”

“The north is still _crawling_ with them, but I've never seen one like this.” his brow furrowed as he wracked his brain.

“Are there many kinds?” an eager spark flickered in the Shadow’s eyes.

He cleared his throat, averting his gaze, “Lost count of how many, some are just too big and dangerous to deal with. A Timberjack’s wings are as wide across as my boat is long, and sharp as swords besides. And Monstrous Nightmares have that lovely habit of setting themselves on fire…”

“Surely they can’t _all_ be so bad?”

“I've yet to meet one that wasn't. They're _dangerous,_ and- someone’s got to wrangle them.” he tried to ignore the disappointed crease in Shadow’s brow.

“But…” he continued, “There're whales sometimes, even a mile off you can hear them sing. And if you sail fast enough, dolphins'll ride with your bow wave.”

“I saw a black dolphin once, in the Sea… Sharks too.”

“A _what?”_

“You are a sailor, and have never seen a shark?!” the Shadow laughed in disbelief.

The storm howled on, rattling the roof and weatherbeaten walls, and they just… talked, long into the night. Shadow spun great yarns of sailing all those seas, the mountains between, strange flowers and fruits, and Eret just listened with easy, rapt attention as they took it in turns, and _he_ could brag about all the dragons he'd seen. Shadow seemed to like those the most, eyes going bright and wide and shiny. But it was all so easy, _effortless_ even. He'd never been a man of many words among his own men, not more than the occasional half-drunk boast, but something was… _different_ , almost hauntingly familiar about this stranger. There was a certain charm too, in the way Shadow stumbled on turns of phrase, colors, names of plants and beasts, his accent turning thick until he fell he fell back on some other language entirely, lilting and rolling and even richer than the wine. It _tickled_ in his ears, only wearing down his defenses until fatigue weighed free and heavy at his eyes. The third time he snapped out of a doze, Shadow sighed almost... sadly.

“You sleep. I'll wake you when the storm breaks.” he waved towards the bed in the corner.

“But-”

 _“Sleep._ You need it.” Shadow said firmly.

Eret relented. He pulled off what clothing he dared; boots, bracers, belt, and vest, then slipped under the blankets. It was dry, plenty warm… and a scent he couldn't name clung to the pillow. Even breathing slow and deep he hadn't a clue, but it was soothing, just as much as... he really shouldn't be thinking like that, not about a stranger. Somehow, he drifted to sleep, not sure if the baritone humm all around was the wind or a dream…

“-ke up. _Wake up!”_

He shot up with a snort, reaching for a sword that wasn't there. What- oh. Right.

“It is time, we _must_ go before the sun rises.” Shadow hissed.

Eret nodded, groaning as he rubbed his face. He dressed, stretched hard, and muffled a yawn. He hadn't expected to sleep so well.

“Here. Don't forget this.” Shadow passed back his sword, hilt first.

There was no avoiding the brush of their fingers over the metal and leather, and he mumbled his thanks as he sheathed the sword properly.

“Let's go, I've already made sure the way is clear.” 

Shadow eased the door open, waving him along and he slipped out after. The drifted sand muffled their footsteps, but they kept to the fringes and out of easy sight as they crept to the dunes. The sky blushed with the first light of dawn over the walls of the cove, there wasn't time to dawdle. They both shoved the skiff into the sea, vaulting in and taking up an oar each to row slow and silent through the still water. At a glance the ship looked fine, but there was no telling what happened to everything on deck.

“You're sure you can sail her out?” Shadow murmured.

He looked to the pass, nearly invisible in the gloom, and frowned. On a good day with a full crew it would be tricky, but now? It verged on impossible.

“Can _you_ sail?” he asked cautiously.

“This? I don't know. But I can learn. Quickly.” Shadow replied.

“That'll have to do. We’ll tow the skiff so you can get back.”

He shot up the ladder, and tossed down the end of a coil of rope.

“Tie that to what you can, then I'll show you how to man the sails.”

Shadow hummed in agreement, making a quick knot through the ring on the prow, then stowing the oars before climbing aboard. Eret hopped up on the rail, easily skimming along to the stern to tie the other end of the tether, the boat would have to tow behind since the pass was so narrow. The ballista were all in working order, the rigging in good shape… He made a quick check all around the back before returning to the main deck where Shadow waited, adjusting his cloak and starting as he dropped a little too heavily.

“Alright, there's wheels here that move the booms in and out. We need to catch the wind to turn, but through the gap they both need to be pulled in. The mast is under tension, like a bow. If it breaks, everyone for a mile around will know about it. I'll have to mind the tiller, but I'll guide you. Left and right, in and out, got it?” Eret watched Shadow closely.

He nodded sharply, eyes roving over the rigging and sails.

“Good. Now, let's get the sails flowing, there's a touch of breeze- and the _anchor,_ damn.”

They both hauled the weight in, leaving it where it fell on the deck as the ship started to drift. The tethers were loosened and the sails hoisted first up the mast, then out across the boom with the built-in pulleys, and the wind quickly found purchase. He guided Shadow, turning the booms out quickly to the right and into the wind. The ship creaked, rope groaned, sailcloth rippled and they _moved._

“Alright, we need to straighten out _before_ the pass, because we’re gonna keep swinging. I'll turn this sail out, you bring yours in about three turns, and I'll take the tiller. When I give the word, bring them in at least as far as the rails, quick as you can.” he huffed as he wound the crank.

He ran back to the tiller, hauling to straighten it out and correct their path. Sunrise painted the sky beyond the strait blood-red, just enough to see by and the wind was behind them, gentle as a kitten. _Perfect._

“Sails in!” he called, loud as he dared.

Shadow cranked one wheel, then rushed to the other, and Eret held his breath-

They sailed clean through the too-long channel then out into the burning sea. He huffed a bewildered, victorious laugh.

“Ha! We’ll make a sailor of you yet-” he spared a glance the way they had come. Good _riddance_ to that place.

When he turned back, Shadow was up in the arched bow-rails, looking out over the ocean that flickered and shimmered like a living flame. He stared, and stared. And stared. Time slowed to a crawl. The ship crested a wave, and Shadow raised his arms to the wind and ruby sunrise and, for a moment, he understood exactly what a god of the sky should look like. This strange, beautiful man cradled the rising sun in his arms like _he_ was the one bringing in the new day.

He couldn't breathe.

The ship rocked sideways, rolling just enough to break the spell. Shadow stumbled back, as if coming to his own senses and Eret shook his head, casting another glance back to the cove. It was far enough to be annoying, but not exhausting.

“I'll get the skiff, they'll be missing you soon…” he muttered, scaling the rail again.

The little boat still bobbed along contentedly behind them as he reached the tether, it was just a matter of pulling it back to the ladder where Shadow was already waiting. His brows pinched and his lips parted when Eret returned, but no words came. He growled, digging the heel of his palm into one eye.

“I will make excuses, but you should leave soon, as soon as you're able. There is much distrust in these lands.” Shadow sighed, hanging his head.

Eret wilted, lips pressing thin as he thought a moment. Then he extended a hand.

“Thank you. For everything.” he wasn't sure what that meant, but it felt right.

Shadow took his offered hand slowly, shaking once before letting their hands drop. He moved like his bones were leaden as he threw one leg over the rail, set his foot in a rung-

 _“Wait!”_ he lunged, grabbing the man’s wrist. He reflexively gripped back, staring back in shock.

“I- I didn't ask for your name. Your _real_ name.”

The boat rocked, clouds shifted, and a beam of first-light fell over the man’s face.

His eyes blazed, umber-red as garnets as his mouth finally moved.

“Cassian.”

It rang like music in Eret's ears, and he almost missed the question that followed.

“And yours?”

 _“Eret.”_ he managed to choke out.

Cassian’s eyes squeezed shut as he let go, hand falling through his fingers and it felt like something tore in his chest. For half a heartbeat he wanted to protest, call out, do _something_ but- What then? Bring him up north, right into Drago's hands? That- no, he was better off where he was, even here. He bit down on his tongue asCassian untied the rope, set the oars, and rowed back to the dark mouth of the cove one labored stroke at a time. But in a moment of weakness he leaned over the rail, watching until the skiff was long gone, swallowed by the shadows.

But, he couldn't just stare, the crew would be expecting him soon. With a heavy heart, he turned the sails and adjusted the tiller, winging back to port.

It was tricky, mooring up again, but he managed and by mid-morning the crew returned with all they needed and more. They suspected nothing at all, and he was grateful for it. They stowed their provisions, and on his orders they set sail.

“What for?” someone asked, “We just got here!”

“Just a bad feeling after that storm. We don't want to get held up here and miss our delivery.” he muttered.

The crew shifted uneasily, and got to work.

He retreated to his cabin, bone-weary and aching. A _feeling_ nagged at the corners of his mind, like he'd lost something. But what? He slumped into a chair to study his charts as the boat picked up speed, pitching in earnest. But he couldn't focus, not really. An unexpected roll sent his tools sliding and he huffed in annoyance, until something _thumped_ in his desk drawer. As they righted, that something slid and thumped again. He eased the drawer open, peering inside. A… bottle? He pulled the object out, turning it in his hands. It was cylindrical, squat, pinching to a narrow neck stopped with a cork. But it wasn't ceramic, this was clear, with a greenish cast-

“Glass.” he said weakly.

A _glass_ bottle, full of a dark red liquid. With shaking hands, he pulled the cork and sniffed. Pomegranate wine. When had he-

It didn't matter. He was leaving, wouldn't be back for months and… Cassian’s wayfaring soul would likely take him elsewhere. He was a fool.

He stuffed the cork back in the bottle and shut it away. He… had work to do.

That night, and many nights after, he dreamed of umber eyes, glowing red as mahogany, rubies, heart’s-blood…

The fort was ready and waiting for them, with a few new dragons in the cages even. They couldn't afford to disappoint Drago again, they needed the _best_ of what the wild had to offer. It might be worth their while to wrangle a Timberjack… But the captains had bad news. One spotted a Stormcutter the night before last, and it looked to have a _rider._ Rumors of dragon riders had gotten more prevalent the last few years among the trapper circles, and Eret didn't believe them at first. Who would be _cracked_ enough to park themselves on a fire-breathing rage beast that wanted them dead? They would prepare, double-guard every night. They couldn't risk losing a single thing.

The rider came in the night, with the fire and fury of a hundred and one dragons.

Their cages were torn apart, pits ripped open, muzzles destroyed, and the fort burned. The flock freed their allies as fast as they were shot down, sometimes before they even hit the ground. But Eret had one net left, and that rider was in the pit below. If nothing else he could lay one of Drago’s enemies at his feet, that- that could save at least his crew. Maybe. He heaved, and the net caught in the Stormcutter’s frills and horns, even snagging a wing. He followed quickly after, sliding down a rope from the parapet, though he staggered as the smoke sent him coughing. The rider turned, silent and eyeless with their horned mask, but he could _feel_ the malice radiating off them. Before he could attack, the rider swung their staff not at him, but in great arcs around their head. It whistled and rattled somehow, an awful sound that echoed in the cage pit. The dragons above howled, circling up and away.

“The _hell_ are you playing at-” he snarled, and it burned in his throat.

The rider said nothing, and slashed the net enough for the Stormcutter to lay down a long line of fire that forced him to dive away. It shredded the rest and it's rider climbed aboard, swinging the staff again as the dragon took off.

The ground shook, and the timber walls of the fort groaned.

In the pre-dawn light and flames, a draconic _face_ rose higher and higher, over the walls and even the tower, impossibly huge, it _couldn't_ be real- It roared, and he feared he'd go deaf if the very force of the air didn't kill him first. The beast reared even higher, inhaled like a hurricane, and the ocean itself came to bear against them. The fort exploded and he fell, head colliding with something. The world went red, then dark.

Ice. Their fort was destroyed by ice. Great waves and spears of it tore the walls apart, scattering logs thicker than a man like so much kindling. Eret wandered through the wreckage in a daze, legs boneless and hands shaking, hair matted with blood. They had no dragons, their supplies were likely buried, only one ship was left floating, dozens of men were injured, and Drago was expecting them in less than a week. They could scrounge up all they had left, load the boat and try to catch a few dragons along the way. Something was better than nothing. Or- they could run, head south, get as far away as possible. But how long would that last? He couldn't do that to his men.

“Get men on every ballista we have left!” he barked, voice raw and torn, “Salvage everything you can! We’ll load the boat and snag whatever we find along the way…”

The trappers got to work, some climbing the precarious spires of ice to get to the defenses that remained. He worked down to the barracks and packed everything he could fit in a bag. The furniture would be a loss, until they could find a new place to set up shop. Someday. Maybe. He left his bag with the others to get ferried to the ship with the first load of the injured, but something nagged at his mind, a feeling… He grabbed a coil of rope and scanned the sky.

_“Fire!”_

A ballista twanged and an unfamiliar voice cried _‘Look out-!’_. A dragon squawked and a woman screamed, and he finally spotted a Nadder falling between all the spires of ice, right into the thick of his men scrambling for shields and weapons. Fire stirred in his blood as he vaulted a wall, narrowly missing the spines flung all around by it's whipping tail.

“Watch the tail!” he barked, throwing his whole weight down on the dragon’s head, “Bind those legs up-”

As he wound the rope around it's jaws, eyes drifting to the right- Was that a _saddle?_

A piercing shriek echoed through the pit, drawing up childhood stories of dragons that struck like lightning in the dark of night.

“Is that what I think it is?” he muttered, more to himself.

 _“Stop!”_ a hoarse voice bellowed.

And a Night Fury dropped from the sky.

_“Surely they can’t all be so bad?”_

That question echoed in his head, unbidden, as that same Nadder dropped a weapon at his feet for the umpteenth time, like it didn't care at all that he had thrown his whole body at its face the day before. It thought he was _playing_ now.

_“Surely they can’t all be so bad?”_

It came again, a few hours later, when that same Nadder threw itself into the thick of Drago’s army to save him from a hail of weapons, only to get captured like the rest of its clan. The shock left him quiet and still, even as he was bound and led to his death at the back of the great flagship, with the dragon riders trailing behind. He was wrong. _He was wrong._ Of _course_ the dragons would fight back against someone trying to capture or kill them, were humans any different? If- if they could just get out of this, hide in the traps and hitch a ride to wherever Drago was going… There was a _way out._ A way _forward._ They could undo his work from the inside. And if Astrid, _all_ of them, had such utter conviction in Hiccup… maybe he should too. That first step forward started with a spectacular roundhouse kick to two consecutive trappers right over Astrid’s head. And of course, he found himself holed up with the Nad- _Stormfly_. 

“Thank you, for saving my life.” he murmured.

Stormfly trembled, but her pupils blew wide and round before she rolled her nose into his hands.

_“Surely they can’t all be so bad?”_

“Now let _me_ return the favor.”

They _weren’t._

He would make this right, and in the sky he was _free._

The Bewilderbeast retreated into the sea with Drago somewhere in it's mane. No man could survive the crushing cold, or an impact from that height. He was as good as dead, and the Bewilderbeast did them a favor on it's way out, plowing through the warlord’s fleet where it gathered on the horizon with reckless abandon. The ships scattered in a panic, running to the four corners of the world. Probably. If they knew what was good for them. But, Berk was a mess and there was work to be done, and he had one hell of a debt to pay to these people and their dragons. Including his own. _His_ dragon. The previous companion of _Hiccup’s own father._ It was no small gesture and he intended to repay that honor, with his life if he must. So, on Berk he would stay.

 _But…_ he had none of his belongings thanks to Astrid’s kidnapping. So, with the permission of the chief, Eret set off on his first real flight with Skullcrusher to track down his ship. They deserved to know they were no longer in danger. Hell, they could _keep_ the ship if they wanted, or join him on Berk. They would be safe there, from whatever remained of Drago’s fleet. And… if he could earn a second chance, they weren't beyond help either. They had all done enough harm.


	2. Chapter 2

The boat wasn't terribly far, Skullcrusher found it by the afternoon and it was almost motionless in the faint winds. Those on the deck that bothered to look up called out in alarm, but Eret knew his ship and it's weaknesses. He urged Skullcrusher down right between the masts and the dragon broke hard with a powerful sweep of his wings, nearly tossing him right out of the saddle and between those ruby-red horns. He quickly collected himself and the crewmen gawped, dropping ballista nets in shock.

_“Eret?!”_

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't that the same-”

“Hold on now-” he said firmly, and the crowd went quiet, “Look, a _lot_ happened. But Drago won't be a problem anymore, for any of us. We’re _done_ with the dragon business, do what you like with the ship. I've quit, and I'm heading back to Berk.”

He slipped off Skullcrusher’s back and strode right into his old cabin, ignoring the confusion and protest. The pack was where he left it, so he filled it once more with what belongings he had. It really wasn't very much... clothes, a spare pair of boots, a few trinkets and tools, an old reluctant heirloom or two. The boat rocked as Skullcrusher moved across the deck, and something _thumped_ inside the desk. He froze. Slowly, haltingly, he retrieved the glass bottle and just stared at it, long and hard. Cassian had wanted purpose, freedom, following a voice _north…_ the same sort of voice told him to go back. The same voice that came, time and time again the last day or two, _his_ voice, asking so hopefully about dragons. If- if he hadn't thought of that, hadn't remembered, what would he have done? In the face of Drago, the riders, everything- He shook his head sharply, stumbling as the boat rocked again. That didn't matter anymore, he'd survived...

And it was _because_ of Cassian. He had to go back.

He swaddled the bottle in an old shirt and tucked it carefully into the bag. He _would_ go back, eventually, but he couldn't abandon Berk now. Shouldering his pack he returned to the deck, where Skullcrusher seemed to have made a sport of following the crew around the ship, nose nearly flush against their backs. The dragon seemed to _relish_ their unease, but made no move to hurt them.

“Crush, play nice now.” he scolded, though a smile cracked his lips.

Skullcrusher sniffed his current ‘victim’ a few more times, then ambled back so he could lash the bag to the back of the high saddle-seat.

“I'm going to Berk,” he repeated, “And you can do as you like, but Drago’s army is still out there somewhere, and that's where you'll be safest.”

The crew shifted, looked amongst each other, and shrugged.

Skullcrusher got them home by sunset, and he sorely needed rest. But he had to check with the chief first, and warn him about the possibility of the ship coming by. As expected, Hiccup was with Gobber at the forge, hard at work making the nails and hinges and fixings they needed to rebuild Berk. They had better uses for all that iron wasted in dragon armor.

“Chief!” he slipped inside, “I'm back! Found the ship but, some of the men're still injured-”

He hesitated as the smithing stopped, and iron returned to the fire. Hiccup huffed, mopping the sweat from his brow.

“Sorry, what was that?” he rounded his anvil to stand closer.

“I found the ship, and there're still men injured from the… _incident_ at the fort. I've told them that if they want help, they'll give up trapping. That may've been out of line but, I do still feel responsible for them…” Eret trailed off, shifting uneasily.

Hiccup considered a moment, “That's… a fair compromise. The Bewilderbeast _did_ smash most of our boats. But how'd they react to Skullcrusher?”

“They ignored him mostly, even when he was following them around like a puppydog. I think… there's hope for them too.”

Hiccup cracked a wry smile, and he took a steeling breath.

“I hate to ask your pardon again, but there is one more person I think belongs here. I met him by chance about two weeks ago and… I owe him a debt, for all of this. Not- not _now_ of course, but once Berk is whole, And he has skills that could help, it's incredible!”

He had to sell the idea because Cassian _deserved_ to see Berk. He'd been right about dragons without ever seeing one, made him _doubt_ when it mattered most. He retrieved the bundle from his pack and unwrapped the bottle, holding it out for Hiccup to inspect.

“Careful- uh, please.” he blurted.

Hiccup looked at him strangely but took the bottle with care, turning it in a shaft of sunlight, tapping his nails against the side. Perplexion only grew on his face.

“What _is_ it? It can't be crystal…” Hiccup passed the bottle to Gobber.

“He called it ‘glass’, and said something about melting sand, shaping it like clay, he worked in a shop _making_ it. He's seen wild dragons in the south, he just came to _life_ when I told him about the ones we know. I think… everyone could benefit from this.”

He couldn’t make this just about _him_ of course, but a wistful smile tugged at his lips. Gobber handed the bottle back, with a curious squint in his eyes.

“What’s inside it then?” he asked, scratching his chin.

“It's wine, from something called… pomegranate? I don't know what kind of fruit that is, probably didn't say the name right either.” Eret shrugged.

He re-wrapped the bottle to put it away, and Hiccup sighed, brows furrowing.

“This would be a long flight?” he asked, more for clarification.

He nodded, “No _less_ than a week, at best.”

“Then it'll have to wait until Berk is back on it's feet. We need every pair of hands we can get.” Hiccup said, with just enough edge of authority that he didn't dare protest.

He figured as much, but Hiccup was chief and had already been more than generous just letting him stay. At least he could start making himself useful, especially with a new perspective on even just the layout of Berk.

“Well, on that note, I had a thought on the way in. With Valka _and_ Drago’s flocks sticking around, we should take this as an opportunity to expand to the mainland. We can turn whole trees into roosts, or get the dragons to help tunnel dens into the mountains. There are just too many to center them all here, they’ll squabble for space, start fires… _And_ we can build stables into the ground floors of the houses instead! Make space for our dragons right in the footprint of the village, and save room for everything else!” he was almost _giddy_ with the ideas that burned in his head, it had been so long since he had been able to _build_ things.

Hiccup’s brows rose as he pursed his lips in thought, and finally nodded.

“ _Not_ bad dragon rider. We’ll make a Berkian of you yet.” he replied with a faint smile.

For some reason, that sent Eret’s heart pounding. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been given genuine praise, for anything. Not in his youth, certainly not under Drago, and the jibes of his crew just... didn't hit the same. Before he could really look like a fool, he bid his goodnights and slogged back to his temporary home, unpacking what he needed and… no, he wouldn't touch the wine. That needed to be saved _._ It was only fair after all…

Berk was a long time coming in repairs, and everyone worked sunup to sundown. They could _not_ get caught unprepared for winter. But they had the help of hundreds of dragons to clear the ice and tear down buildings that were beyond repair, level new ground, and cut fresh timber. New homes were first for the village proper, and some indeed were made with a sort of dragon-sized barn as part of the ground floor, with the rest of the living space above. Lighter dragons saw accommodations on the upper floors, with great round doors like a birdhouse under the eaves. Eret had a house of his own for the first time in his life, with a room for Skullcrusher's den and a small kitchen on the ground floor with a wide hearth and rough furniture, then a whole upper floor for a bedroom and plenty of storage, big windows... It was all simple, still rough-hewn in some places, but there would be time to decorate through the winter. On the main island they turned the biggest trees into living perches, trimming more space around the thickest branches and with some broader platforms around the trunks. Whispering Deaths were more than happy to fill the mountains and cliffs with ever-expanding tunnels and caves, and their innate sense for the rock kept everything stable and safe, so they were left to their own devices. Soon there was room for every wing and tail, which proved to be a good investment.

Dragons flocked from every corner of the map to pay their respects to the new Alpha, and Berk was quickly reminded that trappers still prowled. Dragons arrived with broken horns and limbs, every horror imaginable seemed to have been inflicted upon them. And those were just the ones that managed to _escape._ When a pack of Silver Phantoms arrived like ghosts in the mist, they had a solution and new riders were trained to scout far and wide. The news they brought back was sobering. Every island they could find was devoid of dragons or covered in traps, they did what they could to destroy the contraptions and ferry back the injured. But soon after, the _ships_ appeared, and the riders were forced to become raiders. 

And Hiccup had to make a concession for the sake of duty. Toothless needed to keep order and Hiccup had his own chiefly things, they needed to work apart for part of whole days. So, with careful tinkering, he made what was necessary: a tail that Toothless could operate all on his own when he needed to, by levering some fancy angle-gear into place. The manual operation was still more precise and true to natural flight, since with the lever and gear the two fins could only mirror each other. But if they were separated, Toothless wouldn't be helpless. _That_ was what mattered. 

But the tinkering didn't stop there. They found ways to fix dragons scales to leather, making fireproof armor with gliding wings for every rider, even Eret and Valka. The firescale more than earned it's keep in the raids, as did his experience with the trappers, their tactics, and equipment. With time, and Hiccup’s blessing, he even made a new saddle, lighter and slimmer for _his_ build and style, and room enough for two. Just in case...

There was time for healing too, for man and dragon alike. He'd never admit it, but nightmares still struck some nights, hoarse screams and hands clawing at his throat, the stink of hot iron and burning flesh... and it wasn't just him. Some mornings he found the den empty, Skullcrusher gone out who-knew-when to sit on the stairs to the Great Hall, staring up at the new statue of his old rider. He'd never know how, but he could _feel_ pain hanging around the dragon like a fog, and all he could do was offer a long, slow scratch as Skullcrusher finally let out a long, baleful keen into the sunrise. Toothless joined the Rumblehorn some mornings, and those days he let the dragons be. They both had their pains, and it wasn't his place to intrude.

The months wore on his mind as summer waned, harvest came, and the winter months rolled in, bitter and grey. As great a team as he and Skullcrusher were by then, he wasn't about to risk both their lives on a flight that long. He'd have to bear the worry and, dare he say it, _heartache_ until spring, and he could only hope Cassian would still be there, in that cove in the Shetlands.

Spring arrived, slow and gentle. The winds were warming, the snow was melting, and Eret had waited long enough. Even Gobber and Valka had picked up on his frayed nerves, and he wasn't so far gone that he missed their _looks._ Yeah, he probably looked like a lovesick puppy, moping and staring off at the horizon, but he didn't much care what they thought because it was finally _time._ He packed in a rush, mostly rations, a map, and a blanket, then loaded his bag on the back of Skullcrusher’s saddle, lashing it down. He dressed warmly and, after a second thought, took his heavier cloak. It was barely spring after all, and Cassian wouldn't be used to the cold and wind at height. He couldn't let the man _freeze_ on the way here. After running his plan by a suspiciously-amused Hiccup one last time, they were off with the next sunrise, south and a _touch_ west. 

Skullcrusher wasn't the fastest of dragons, but he was steady and still leagues faster than any ship, even against a little headwind. By the end of the first day, they were more than a third of the way to the Shetlands. They were both glad for the break, even if he _wanted_ to keep going and make up for the delay, get there as fast as possible. He couldn't run Crush into the ground now, they still had to fly all the way back after all… and that was only if they found Cassian right where they parted ways. If he had to start tracking, who knew how far they may have to go. He really, really hoped it wouldn't come to that, his heart couldn't take much more worrying. It may have been early, but for the lack of anything else to do Eret bundled up under Skullcrusher's wing and fell into a fitful, restless sleep.

The next day was no better. The winds were obstinate, they were closer still, but sleep evaded him.

The third day saw the Shetlands rising from the fog by noon, the fringes at least. He _knew_ these landmarks and could guide Skullcrusher along, low in the mist to avoid prying eyes. Who knew what they would do to a dragon out here… _Finally_ the old docks rose from the sea and he caught his bearings, steering Skullcrusher west of the town, away from the cove to cliffs that would provide some shelter. There they landed, and he freed his pack. The rest would have to be done on foot.

“You stay here, yeah? If I need you I'll whistle, but if you're found… just _run._ Come back for me if you can, but don't get caught for my sake.” he scratched along the dragon’s jaw.

Skullcrusher sighed, giving a little nod before settling down in the mud and gravel for a nap. He'd certainly earned it. 

Eret scrambled up the cliff, ignoring the old aches in his back and knees, and ambled across the heath at the fringes of the town. That inn would be as good a place as any to start asking, he didn't dare try to go back to the cove on his own. Too risky, for him and for Crush, maybe Cassian too. This town always felt _wrong;_ too quiet, too damp, too _empty,_ he just wanted to get in and out if there was nothing to be found. There was still a little of the coin they accepted here at the bottom of his pack, enough for a meal, a drink, or maybe a bribe, and he did have his swords. He hoped he wouldn't need them. The inn was thankfully close, everything was in a place this small, but it was really more of a tavern since it only had four rooms to let. Who would even stay here, unless they were desperate? That was no matter, he strode right in, shaking off the damp and drawing the eyes of the three men there, two at a table by the door and the owner behind the counter. He could feel their stares as he sat at the bar, dropping a few coins down as he ordered an ale. The southern stuff was dark, almost tasting burnt with hints of strange herbs he couldn't place, but it was cool and the salty sea air had left him parched. The men slowly relaxed and he bided his time, before _finally_ posing his question.

“I'm looking for a man they call the Shadow. Dark skin, can't miss him.”

The room turned stony silent, and the eyes returned.

“Don't know no names like that.” the barkeeper said, pointedly looking away.

 _“Cassian_ then.” he prodded.

Chairs scraped across the floor and the two men loomed behind him, boxing him in, while the barkeeper retrieved a small axe from somewhere below, placing it on the counter. Eret took an easy sip of his drink, not breaking the barkeeper’s gaze.

“Who wants to know?” the man growled.

“I owe him a debt, and I'm far too late in repaying him.” he replied.

 _“What_ debt?”

“My _life.”_

The barkeeper’s eyebrows twitched upwards, and he briefly looked to the other men. They hesitated, but with another look they returned to their table. Without a word, the barkeeper ducked into a back room and returned moments later.

“We’ll arrange a meeting. You wait at the white cliffs before sunset.” he said.

“I'll be there.”

He took a long drink to hide the wild beating of his heart. Cassian was _still here,_ against all hope. But… now he had to wait. At least sunset came early in spring.

He finished his ale, and paid for a meal to take along. The barkeeper seemed wary still, but also curious as he passed over a stack of bread, cheese, and cold meat. There would be no waiting in this miserable hovel, he left and camped back under the cliffs at Skullcrusher's side. The white cliffs were a clear landmark, gathering to one long point that was most likely where the barkeep meant for him to go. It was practically an arrow, 'go this way'. Easy to trap someone with that, but he sure wasn't helpless. Now... to wait. And wait. And wait. The day dragged and fog still hung over the sea, and around the cliffs like waves, but the clouds above broke enough to track the passing of the sun. Eret tried to nap, but the buzzing in his veins made it impossible to relax. He wanted to be there _now,_ but going too early might warn someone off. Cassian would remember him, wouldn't he? He _left_ that bottle to be found, wine that had traveled hundreds, maybe thousands of miles. That one night _meant_ something. It had to. Didn’t it? Just the thought sent his heart pounding, as much anxiety and apprehension as excitement. In his draconic way, Skullcrusher seemed to sense that, nudging his shoulder gently and humming low.

“Almost time now. I might be introducing you, so stick around for me, yeah?” he asked, giving Crush a pat.

Skullcrusher chirruped.

The sky turned a slightly offputting color, all orangey and bruise-purple as the sun finally tracked down, and Eret nudged his dragon awake. His hands shook as he climbed into the saddle, but they were _on their way_ to the cliffs, low in the fog. He leapt straight off Skullcrusher’s back as they looped over the edge, stumbling as his feet caught on the heather and Skullcrusher dove out of sight, landing on the beach below. The fog barely lingered this high, it was all rock and bracken. There was nowhere to hide, and no one in sight, where could Cassian be coming from? He scanned the heath, back and forth and back again, and started. A black figure stood at the cliff edge a distance away, where nothing had been before. The figure took a few stumbling steps, then _sprinted,_ the frantic pace of excitement- The man almost tripped and forced himself to stop a few measures away, wrenching his hood back and _Cassian_ stared at him in shock, breathing hard and- gods he was so _thin._ Cheekbones like knives, eyes hollow, cheeks sunken... how bad had the winter been here? He huffed a bewildered laugh anyway and Cassian took another step forward.

 _“You came back.”_ he croaked.

Eret’s smile fell, and he was only faintly aware of his heart tearing in two.

“Sorry it took so long.” he murmured, half-choking on the words, “Had a busy summer, and it wasn't safe to travel until now.”

“But- there have been no boats, how did you..?” Cassian looked back over the docks.

“Don't sail much anymore, turns out there are faster ways.” he chuckled, “But… I came back. A lot's changed up north, I've settled in a town called Berk. And, if you wanted it… there's a place for you there.”

Cassian could only stare in silence, mouth working on words that failed him.

“But- there's no _boat.”_ he finally stammered.

“Well… hold on a second, looks like I'll have to introduce you.” he turned and whistled, high and sharp.

Cassian squinted, then jumped when something _big_ snorted below. Wings pounded, ripping through the stillness until Skullcrusher shot over the rim of the cliff, backwinging once, twice, and landing hard, scattering dust and gravel. Cassian let out a strangled scream, tripping over himself as he scrambled backwards, falling to his rear where he _kept_ scuttling away. Skullcrusher thrummed in concern, taking a step forward-

He held up a hand, “Hold on, hold on give us a minute.”

Skullcrusher sat, still thrumming intently and staring at the stranger. He knelt at Cassian’s side, easing him out of the dirt with an arm under his shoulders, but his eyes didn’t leave Skullcrusher.

“That- that's a _dragon.”_ he wheezed.

“Yeah, he is. Got me here quick as lightning.” Eret patted his shoulder.

“But, you said-”

“I was wrong.” he said softly, “I was so _wrong_ about them. You put that first seed of doubt in me, without that I… well, who knows. I might not have made it.”

Cassian stared, expression unreadable, and slowly stood. Skullcrusher eagerly leaned forward, tail almost _wagging_ as Cassian extended a hand, but he let the man approach at his own pace, until he could roll his nose into the offered palm. Cassian sucked in a sharp gasp, letting it out in shocked, _awed_ puffs of laughter, and Skullcrusher thrummed all the stronger. He looked back uncertainly as Eret stood, but relaxed at his smile.

“He's a proper gentleman, Skullcrusher. You'll… have to pardon the name, it wasn't my choosing. But there are so _many_ dragons on Berk, every color and kind. It could be your home too, if- _if_ you wanted.” he added in a rush.

Cassian looked like the wind had been knocked from him, shoulders going slack. But then indecision pulled his mouth into a small frown, and he stroked Skullcrusher’s nose as his eyes slid shut, and brow slowly furrowed.

“I-” he halted, started, stopped again, then finally said, “Give me until morning. First light. I'll have my answer then.”

Eret’s lips pressed thin, and he nodded. Of course Cassian wouldn't have an answer right away, how could he? Picking up and leaving after getting such a wild offer dropped in his lap? No one could do that with no warning, no time… It was too late to be leaving anyway.

“First light…” Cassian murmured, more to himself.

He patted Skullcrusher’s nose and the dragon whined when Cassian turned back to leave the way he'd come. The dragon looked to him, eyes wide and pleading, and whined again, more imploring this time. Eret just scratched his neck and vaulted back into the saddle.

“We can't _make_ him come Crush, we’ll just have to wait.” he said, heart heavy.

After a lingering look and a rattling sigh, Skullcrusher swept out over the sea into the fog, and found them a mostly-dry place to spend the night.

Eret couldn't sleep, and he was so, so tired.


	3. Chapter 3

Cassian slunk through the heath, mind reeling. Eret came back, on a dragon no less, and- Eret came back, _for him._ That left him floundering, like swimming right into a rip-current, he almost didn't dare believe it. He was remembered and, dare he think it, _wanted._ On top of that he'd been right about dragons, more than right, purely on a guess... no, more like _instinct_. He had to see this island. All the stories he'd ever heard, from his grandfather and all the old men from far-off lands, there was a kernel of truth after all. If he passed this up now, he could never forgive himself. There hadn’t been a raider in months, it wasn't like he was doing much at all here anymore. No one would miss him, not really. His pace quickened, back to the cove.

There wasn't much to pack. Clothes, his journal, weapons, a spare pair of boots, his extra mantle, some rations, a frankly embarrassing number of trinkets from his explorations… After a thought, he tore a scrap of parchment from the journal, something already old and flimsy, and wrote a quick message. He was leaving for new lands, and would not likely return. If Berk was all he dared hope, he had no reason to. The Call was still there, curled like fishhooks in his his heart, mind, his _dreams…_ His dreams. A shiver crawled up his spine, pricking at his skin, too warm and too cold. Yes, there had been many dreams of honey-gold eyes, strong arms closing around him… That shiver turned into a hot flush, burning at the back of his neck. He would have to tread carefully on this journey. Back then he swore he wouldn't lay a finger on Eret, that was a promise he intended to keep. He liked to think himself a man of honor, this wasn't something that could just be taken on a whim.

Cassian tried to sleep, bundling up in his many blankets, but was left tossing and turning. Even rolling out of bed to murmur the most comforting prayers, regardless of the time, didn't help. His blood sang with restless energy, and he was left to mull over every second of memory. More _dreams_ than memories, and that wasn't enough. He wanted to see more, _have_ more, that one night never would've been enough. They would have a fair bit of time alone together on this journey at least. He… wanted to know who Eret was, see him smile, _laugh_ again…

Well before sunrise he flopped to the floor, at once exhausted and energized beyond containment. He packed his blankets last, using the thickest of them to swaddle his lute for the trip. He hadn't had the urge to play for weeks, but now his fingers _itched_ for the strings. Later, there would be time. There were some old songs that were fitting after all, and the words he'd made for them in the depths of winter boredom. Not in Norse sadly, he would have to see about fixing that. He scanned the room one last time, whispered another prayer, and turned his back on it all.

The sun was just rising as he reached the cliffs, breathless and shaking in the cold. Every time he scanned the sky, east to west and back again, it remained empty. The fog was thick, the clouds patchy, he might just not be able to see anything… and he _was_ a little early, maybe. Eret did have a dragon to wake up after all, that must not be easy no matter how amicable they were. He could wait, just a little longer. Eret had waited months to get here after all, as he'd waited months for him to return. So he put his bag down and settled on a nearby rock, kneading his sore neck, a memento of his restlessness. But, he didn't have to wait long. Moments later something shimmering-green rounded the rocky point to the east, carrying the sunrise on it's wings. _Skullcrusher._ Cassian scrambled to his feet and waved wildly at them, almost slipping in the damp slope. The dragon howled, wings beating harder as he sprinted to the white cliffs, landing a ways off to gallop the last distance in. Eret almost fell off the dragon’s back and his face said what words couldn't: _You came._ While he froze Skullcrusher thrilled, bowling right past his rider to thrust his nose into Cassian’s waiting hands, so gentle despite his size. The beast was warm, so so warm, just his breath brought the blood back to his hands so quickly they tingled and ached. Behind the shifting wings and tail, Eret’s eyes darted to the pack on the ground and back, a weak, overwhelmed smile spreading over his face.

“You- you're-” he stammered.

Cassian nodded, “I'm coming.”

Eret huffed a sweet, beautiful laugh that left his heart aching. _God_ he was- it was like the sun lived in his eyes, shining when he smiled and it left him weak. Skullcrusher chuffed, nudging his chest and turning under his hands to guide him towards the saddle.

“Ah, yeah let's get your bag on, we should go before we’re spotted…” Eret glanced around warily.

Oh, yes. Right. They were leaving. He grabbed his pack and helped load it on the saddle, strapping it right next to Eret’s though they were mindful of the lute bundled on the outside. As far as it had come, it would break his heart to harm that relic of home now.

“I did bring an extra cloak, it'll be cold up there…” Eret pulled a heavy bundle from his own bag before tightening the straps completely.

It was thick black wool with a collar of silvered fur, simple but still finer than anything he'd ever worn. But Eret only had a long-sleeved tunic and vest of fleece and dragon scale, how could _he_ stand the cold?

”I couldn't, _you'll_ need it. I have a spare-”

Eret smiled that soft smile, and shook his head, “I'm plenty warm, don't worry. We’re made of tough stuff up north. And- oh, you'll want these too, as bright as it'll be you can go snow-blind. Not a fun experience.”

He handed over a small mask of molded leather, with thin slits for eyeholes and strips of cloth on the side to tie it. He needed a bit of assistance fastening the straps of the cloak, crossing strangely over his chest and then behind his back. It wouldn't strangle him this way, he supposed, since it wasn't gathered around his throat.

“You'll, uh… have to sit behind me. There's plenty of room.” Eret ducked his head as he fastened his mask-

But Cassian could swear he was _blushing_. Eret climbed up into the saddle, settling forward and adjusting some bits and straps as he tied his own mask. It restricted his vision a good deal, but not as much as he feared and it cut the glare of the rising sun to almost nothing. _Fascinating._ Eret extended a hand and he took it, scrambling for purchase on dew-slick scales but finally sliding behind him, adjusting the bulk of the cloak as he settled. The seat was padded a little, but he could already tell he'd be monstrously sore soon enough. And it was not so large that he didn't slip forward as Skullcrusher ambled back to the cliffs, wings rising.

“You'll want to hold on to whatever you can. I'm afraid I've got the handles.” Eret chuckled nervously, “Alright Crush, take us home!”

Skullcrusher bellowed, loud and joyous and heedless of the racket and launched into the dawn sky. The motion was so explosive it pitched him backwards and he yelped in a panic, throwing his arms around the only thing available: Eret. He clung tight through the pounding wingbeats, arms winding around the rider's middle till he drove the breath from Eret’s lungs. They rose higher, higher- before finally leveling out into a fine, brisk tailwind. Only when Eret patted his hands for a reprieve did he let go, leaning back and murmuring an apology. He was very glad for the cloak, the wind here was fierce and biting-cold, and he shivered as he gathered it around himself. With Skullcrusher flying so smoothly he didn't really _need_ to hold on to anything, but... he did want to. Very much. Eret was so blessedly warm, even through all these layers and he still _felt_ it like a brand everywhere they'd touched. 

“We’ll take a few breaks through the day, then camp at sundown. We should be home in two more days!” Eret said, over his shoulder and above the wind.

He nodded, shifting a bit in his seat so he wasn't _quite_ so flush against Eret’s back. Even if that was exactly where he wanted to be. With nowhere else to put his arms, he awkwardly crossed them over his chest, then lap, fidgeting with the cloak. If it bothered Eret, he didn't show it. But he didn't dare try for even the simplest contact, it was too soon to be pushing any boundaries. Were there boundaries? He... couldn't be sure. The way Eret looked at him, the light in his eyes and the breathless joy, that had to mean _something._ Right? Heavens have mercy on his soul, and heart, he hoped it did.

They did break rather soon for his sake, but not for long. They stretched their legs, slaked their thirst and ate a makeshift breakfast, and after they took flight again. But not even an hour later Eret drooped, sagging over the pommel before jerking back upright with a snort. He shook his head, shifted in the saddle… but moments later he was sagging again. Well, _this_ was rather familiar. He must not have slept well, maybe for several nights, the whole way here even. Had he been excited, or scared..? And, why- no, no, thoughts for another time. Help was what Eret needed now. The backrest of the saddle did recline a good bit, maybe if _he_ leaned back… his face burned in the wind. It would just be for the sake of a nap, so they wouldn't have to stop.

“You're tired.” he said, leaning closer.

“M’fine-” Eret muttered, only to yawn, “I'll _be_ fine, just wakin’ up.”

“You don't _sound_ fine. The sky is calm, you can rest.” he insisted.

“There really isn't anywhere to-”

“Lean back. I won't let you fall.” Cassian settled against the backrest, heart pounding.

Eret glanced back, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

“You're- you're sure?”

He nodded, spreading his arms wide in invitation. Slowly, Eret released the handles and eased back, shifting and twisting until his head rested on Cassian’s shoulder and- he could barely breathe. The weight, the lightning-heat of another _person_ was something he hadn't felt in- in so _long,_ not like this. He was so absorbed in the euphoria he almost missed the faint words, right below his ear.

“Just- for a few minutes. A nap is all I need.” Eret mumbled, turning into the fur collar.

“Of course.” Cassian lied. He needed much more than _that._

He curled one arm under Eret’s where they crossed over his chest, even in the wind he burned like a brazier. And if Eret could feel the pulse thundering against his brow, he was too tired to say a word and soon relaxed, falling limp as his breath grew slow and even. Cassian hardly dared to move and his heart was fit to burst. He hadn't been this close with another man in… a long time. He hadn’t dared _._ But Eret was different, he could _feel_ it. Different, and beautiful besides, strong and tall and his _smile…_ Yes, he thought, I never could have refused him, not when he smiled so just at the sight of me. The Call that had burrowed into his head all those years ago was finally, blissfully, silent.

Eret slept through the morning and long into the afternoon and even Cassian found himself dozing, cheek pressed to the top of Eret’s head. Skullcrusher decided on a stop for them, and the shock of landing jolted them both awake. Eret shot up with a bewildered snort and would've pitched sideways if it weren't for his firm hold.

“What’d we land for, we just stopped-” Eret groaned, scrubbing his face.

He paused, pushed up his mask, stared up at the sky, squinted- and turned back to him. Eret just… looked, blinking owlishly with an expression he couldn't name.

“You just… let me sleep all day?”

He shrugged, “You were tired, you needed it.”

“I-” Eret's protest deflated quickly, “Thank you.”

They dropped to the ground to stretch their legs and relieved themselves, drank and ate and stretched some more. It was good to walk and all the while Eret explained their route home, tracing their path on a map stowed in the saddle. There was so far yet to go, but in half a day they'd traveled _hundreds_ of miles. That was the stuff of sailors' and merchants' dreams, ha! He couldn't wait to get to Berk, see all these dragons for himself… Could he choose one of his own? If there were as many as Eret said, surely they couldn't all have riders…

***  
  


They had to fly on, and Eret was more than happy to help Cassian settle in the saddle, a warm and solid presence at his back. To think he'd slept the morning away on Cassian’s shoulder, as easily as if he'd been on a bed and not thousands of feet in the air above the sea. He felt rested, properly _rested_ for the first time in days, but he wanted nothing more than to be in Berk, to show Cassian _everything._ Skullcrusher took to the sky and that strong grip returned around his waist, not quite crushing him to death this time, and soon Cassian eased without prompting as they settled into level flight. But within moments, a yawn rumbled right into his ear. He chuckled, stealing a glance over his shoulder.

“Your turn. Sleep if you need to.”

Cassian nodded silently, but he didn't lean away as before. No, he folded over his back, cheek pillowed in a fold of cloak as one arm slipped around his waist again. _Oh._ It was only fair he supposed, and Cassian was a welcome weight, solid and anchoring. On instinct he covered Cassian’s hand with his, holding him there as he settled, breathed deep, relaxed… and fell asleep in seconds. He didn't loose that hold, for a few moments anyway, he wanted to savor that contact. And, it may have been strange but he marveled at how different they were. The strange, rich, earthy-brown of Cassian's skin was clear now in the bright sun, not Fury-black like he once thought, and he hadn't noticed how the color faded to something softer and paler on his palms either. Skullcrusher thrummed and the rumble of it cut through his musings. The dragon was looking back with a _knowing_ gleam in his eye that was far too human. 

“Mind your business.” he muttered.

By sunset they were very nearly half way there, it was like the winds themselves carried Skullcrusher onward. They found a good spot and set up camp on a fine, high cliff where a little river tumbled off the edge, scattering into mist. It was scenic, _romantic_ even. Nope, nope not thinking about that. Camp, eat, rest, _priorities._ There were enough trees around for a campfire, best get that started so Skullcrusher could set off on his own to fish. He untied their packs and pulled down, stretching long and hard as the Rumblehorn went on his way. _Gods_ his back hurt.

“So, let's get a fire going. Once Crush gets back, we’ll have plenty of fish. Just gotta clean them.” he shrugged his shoulders loose.

Cassian grimaced, nose wrinkling _adorably_ and he just had to laugh, but- fire, work, business, come _on_ Eret. They scoured the woods, returning with armloads of branches until the sun was nearly gone, then piled it in a ring of stones. He organized it all while Cassian got their blankets unpacked and by the sound of approaching wingbeats, Skullcrusher was done with his hunt. The dragon dumped a gaping mouthful of fish, still wiggling, onto the grass, then cast an appraising eye over Cassian. He snorted, and nudged a few fat salmon his way.

“Hey now, he's not a _pup,_ he can feed himself.” he scolded, but Cassian laughed anyway.

Skullcrusher snorted more emphatically, shoved the salmon at Cassian’s feet, and finally lit the kindling with a sneeze of sparks. He grumbled, fixing the wood so it could settle then set about cleaning the best of the salmon. Nasty work that, but Skullcrusher happily slurped up the discarded scales and guts as he went, then returned to the rest of his pile with gusto.

 _“Slob.”_ he rolled his eyes, and staked the fish to roast.

As disgusting as it was, Cassian watched with rapt, bright fascination every time he snuck a glance over. He glowed like an ember in the sunset and firelight, he couldn't _help_ but look. And he could only imagine Cassian’s face when they finally got to Berk. Perhaps… he should get a lesson in proper dragon riding before then, doubtless he would want to throw himself right into training. They could switch places on the last break, and Cassian could steer Skullcrusher in. Wouldn't _that_ shock the town. He chuckled to himself, drawing a questioning humm from Cassian.

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking about getting home.” he shrugged, “Your arrival might be… a _bit_ of a shock to the village. I never really got around to mentioning you don't quite look like anyone else we’ve ever seen. Uh- no offense. It's not a bad thing of course! Just, _new.”_

Cassian shrugged, “You aren't wrong _,_ it's not common for someone from so far south to go so far north. Most can't handle the cold. I couldn't blame your people for being surprised, I'm sure I will be surprised too.”

 _Curse_ the flutter in his treacherous heart. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and nodded, transfixed by Cassian’s hopeful smile. Oh, did he _shine-_

They ate, washed what they could in the stream, and let the fire die back. He was _damn_ tired and more than ready to fall asleep, even if… well. There were no excuses to get so close _this_ time. Skullcrusher sensed him getting ready to retire and trod a nest in the grass, then raised a wing for cover.

“He’ll keep us warm, better than any tent. Should've brought a bedroll…” he sighed.

“I have my blankets, I'll survive.” Cassian said, freeing a lute from one of them.

The strings twanged roughly and Skullcrusher jolted, spotted the instrument, then leaned closer with an eager thrumm. The dragon looked from Cassian to the lute, back and forth, his armor rattling with the force of his purring. Cassian looked to him, and he rolled his eyes.

“He likes music. You don't have to humor him.” he yawned, scrubbing his face.

Skullcrusher huffed, tail thumping in the grass. But Cassian sat by the embers of the fire and carefully tuned the strings, glancing over as he plucked the first few notes. Eret shifted, leaning back against Skullcrusher’s shoulder as he started to really play, something warm and rippling, so _sweet_ even without words. Cassian played and played, never once hesitating as his fingers danced across the strings and a soft smile tugged at his lips, tender and fond. He snuck glances over, easy to miss in the last of the firelight, but finally Eret caught him in the act. So Cassian held his gaze, strumming on through what must be the chorus, drawing deeper richer notes that curled in his ears and drew chickenskin along his arms. The song rippled and swayed, wholly unlike the jaunty ballads and somber epics back home. Somehow, without a word, Cassian’s song was a story of longing, heartbreak, hope- Eret flushed, shivered, and Cassian looked away.

They slept deep and slow, waking with the dawn to start their travels once more. He was _so_ ready to be home, there was still so much to do as spring blossomed into summer. Hiccup would surely be interested in putting Cassian to work making glass, or at the very least building what he would need. In the meantime they could teach him all there was to know about dragons. How to ride, how to care for them, maybe even get him a suit of firescale and teach him how to fly…

The ocean came and went, mile after countless mile at a satisfying pace. By late afternoon they were on the fringes of Berk’s territory, another hour out at most. Perfect, time for the plan. Eret urged Skullcrusher to land, ignoring the dragon’s protests. Yes they were close, but Cassian deserved an unobstructed view, and sitting behind _him_ wouldn't do well for that.

“We’re almost there.” he assured as he eased out of the saddle.

“Flying is nice. But, I would not like to fly so far again. Not _soon_ at least.” Cassian groaned.

He dismounted as well, stretching his back, legs… Everything must ache by now.

“Just an hour more, and we’ll be there.” he assured.

“What did we stop for if we’re close?”

“Switching places. You'll be flying us in, since- well. I'm not easy to see around.” he huffed a laugh, looking away as Cassian stared.

“You're… sure?” he asked, fidgeting with his cloak.

“Yeah, there's nothing to it. It's mostly just asking Crush to go one way or another, and being an extra set of eyes when things get hairy. Dragons aren't carts or wheelbarrows, they don't need to be _steered,_ they'll know how to get you where you want to go. You just have to trust them, as they trust you.” he patted Skullcrusher’s neck, and he rumbled in agreement, “But, we’ll rest a bit. I'm sure you'll want to take a look at everything once we get there.”

Cassian nodded, slow to hide his eagerness.

So, they rested and the excitement was infectious. He and Skullcrusher _both_ wanted to be back in the air, but for Cassian’s sake they could wait. What species would choose him, Eret wondered. Maybe a Nadder, or a Night Fury in a kinder world. Nightmares, Gronckles, Thunderclaws… those were all too heavy, too bulky, that didn't suit him at all. An image came, unbidden, of Cassian sprawled low on a Nadder's back all in purple and gold firescale, and just the thought left him speechless. Oh, he would look _very_ good in purple…

Finally, Skullcrusher had enough of waiting and nudged Cassian to his feet first.

“Now, be patient a moment-” he protested, adjusting his cloak.

He clambered up and inched forward, resting his hands uncertainly on the pommel. Eret slid in behind him and wondered why they hadn't done this _sooner,_ he could easily see over Cassian’s head. But, now he would be left to face the full force of the wind…

“Crush, take us home!” Cassian laughed, and the dragon roared.

Skullcrusher threw himself into the sky, knocking Cassian back into his chest and driving the breath from both of them. Eret slipped an arm around his waist to steady him, urging Cassian to lean forward a bit as they moved onward and upward, then leveled out. An exhilarated laugh escaped his lips, before he turned to look over his shoulder.

“Are they always so eager to get back?”

“They sure are! They know an easy meal is waiting!” he said.

He left his arm where it was, and Cassian made no complaint.

Dragons filled the air, more and more of them until Berk itself finally rose into view in all it's riotous, colorful glory. He named the species as they passed by: Nadders and Nightmares, Threadtails and Snafflefangs, Gronckles and Windgnashers… Cassian had enough of his snow-goggles by then and stripped them off so he could actually see _._ Dragons filled caves on the cliffs, clustered over the sea stacks, flocked around feeding stations and water towers, squawking and chirping and warbling. This… might be a lot to take in, they should find a quiet place first.

“Here, turn this way-” he reached around, tapping Cassian’s left hand on the pommel.

They both leaned left and Skullcrusher rounded the western edge of the village, just under the cliffs and on to the Overlook that would give a perfect, and secluded, view of everything Berk had to offer. They landed and Skullcrusher crouched low as Cassian scrambled out of the saddle, stumbling and slipping to the precipice, staring out at his- _their_ home.

“What did we come up here for?” he asked, awestruck and breathless.

“Didn't want to throw you into the thick of things right away.” Eret answered, “I figured you'd have questions, and it can be a bit _loud_ down in the village. Not so much up here.”

He ambled over to stand at Cassian’s side, his excitement and eagerness were _palpable_ and… Eret wanted to show him everything. In time of course, the day was almost done and the sun was on it's way down. They should still try to see Hiccup soon. Cassian sighed, stretched, and eased down one joint at a time to sit with his legs dangling off the edge of the cliff, and Eret joined him there.

“Alright, fire away. We’ve got plenty of time.” he nudged Cassian with an elbow.

“There's just… so _much.”_ he murmured.

The golden sun caught in his star-struck eyes, and Eret’s chest _squeezed_.

“Yeah. It's come a long way since that Bewilderbeast trampled everything…” he mumbled.

“I- wait, _what_ happened?” Cassian turned sharply, brows furrowing.

He sighed, and sat up straighter, “It isn't all perfect and peaceful, we’ve had to fight tooth and nail for our home and our dragons. There are still trappers, and madmen who want to enslave them to take over the world. I'm not proud of what I've done, it wasn't a life I _chose,_ but now I can make it right. No one knows their traps and tactics like I do so… we’ve been raiding. Freeing dragons, destroying traps and cages… Bit ironic that.”

He managed a weak chuckle, shaking his head until Cassian slowly, haltingly, rested a hand on his shoulder, gripping firm.

“It's not for me to judge.” he said, so slow and sweet, “You're doing what you feel is right, and sometimes that's all that can be done. But… what _is_ a Bewilderbeast?”

“One of the biggest dragons to ever live.” he scratched at his scar, “Four legs, fins instead of wings, a long tail, huge tusks… and they can bend other dragons to their will, or the will of their _master._ I had to serve a man that did just that. Tortured a Bewilderbeast so long that even when it could’ve crushed him with a _sneeze_ it feared him too much to ever dare. But our chief proved he- _we_ were stronger than fear. Hiccup and Toothless drove Drago and his poor beast into the sea. You can still see the tusk they shot off at the foot of the cliffs.”

He glanced over, and found Cassian squinting, trying to guard his expression.

“Hiccup… and _Toothless?”_ a giggle tugged at his lips until he pressed them tight.

“Yeah, there are a lot of names on Berk that sound a bit strange if you aren't local. Fishlegs, Snotlout, Gobber…” he had to laugh along, “But it's their way, a hideous name is supposed to scare away trolls, or something. I’d try to get the giggles out now, you'll have to meet them soon. I've told Hiccup what I could, he's very interested in setting up a glass workshop, but- he’ll want to judge you for himself. He needs to keep the village safe, over anyone else’s desires-”

He froze, lips sealing tight. That was _not_ a word he intended to use. He snuck a glance and found Cassian doing the same, cheeks a touch _rosier._

Cassian cleared his throat, looking back to the village, “So… _all_ these dragons can't possibly live down there. Do they just go where they please?”

“For the most part. Most of the houses have room for riders and their dragons now, plus there are the caves, the hangar under the cliff, the forest… I'll give you the grand tour tomorrow. I know all _I_ want to do is eat a proper meal and sleep.”

Skullcrusher thrilled in agreement but he paused, brows furrowing. There wasn't exactly a spare house lying around so… Cassian would have to stay with him. This was all his idea after all, he had to take responsibility. Which also meant giving up his bed, at least until they could make another. He’d just be returning the favor, nothing out of the ordinary, not at all. Just being a polite host. 

“Looks like, well, uh- I'll have to offer my home for the night. I didn't really think through this far…” he ran fingers through his hair, suddenly struck by nerves, “I- I wasn't even sure I would _find_ you again, after so long-”

He cut himself off, damn his tongue moving faster than sense.

“I stayed.” Cassian murmured, ducking his head, “I had hoped that you might come back one day, I-”

He didn't have to say it. _‘I wanted to see you again’_ was written plain as day on his face. Eret swallowed hard, then cleared his throat.

“We should- let's get going. It's been a long day. Several days.” he said quickly.

He lurched to his feet but his boot slipped, ankle rolled, _twisted-_

He fell, too close to the cliff edge, he could _see_ the trees below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're left wondering, these are some of the inspirations for what Cassian played, bits and pieces of all of them:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rw65ol7VeEA


	4. Chapter 4

He knew he'd said too much. Eret changed the subject, stood- and the world slowed, ground near-still as he watched Eret’s ankle roll, seize in pain, he fell-

Faster than thought, he _lunged,_ scrambling, standing, catching Eret against his chest and he _twisted_ them both away from the edge. They rolled once and slid to a stop in the thick grass, breathing hard and trembling from the strain. Well, he couldn't breathe at all with the enormous weight crushing him into the grass, _right_ on his gut. Vision swimming, he tried to prop himself up with an elbow and that mass over him groaned. _Oh._ Eret hissed in pain, and froze just as Cassian could see straight, so nearly nose to nose. He watched Eret’s throat bob, pupils blow wide, lips part, he was _so close-_

“I-”

“Eret-” he could drag this man down, kiss him right now because _heavens_ he’s wanted to but… “Your ankle, we have to get your boot off before it swells.”

He shut his eyes tight against the bitter rejection that flickered over Eret’s face, and the great burning heat of his body pulled away.

“Here, let me…” he murmured, following after.

Eret just nodded, almost hiding behind the hand that scrubbed over his face.

He scooted forward a few inches, lifting Eret’s right leg to drape it over his lap where he gently, testingly, pressed his fingers around the joint through the soft leather of his boot. Eret grimaced.

“Don't think it's broken, may just be a sprain.” he muttered.

“I- I just want to be sure. Let me know if it's too much.” Cassian dared look up.

Eret nodded once more, avoiding his eyes.

He wiggled the boot down a fraction, then more when Eret only winced. Once that was off and the sock underneath was pulled down, he had to agree that it was sprained only at the worst. Probably just turned. It was a little swollen, and tender, but he knew a broken bone when he felt it.

“I would keep your weight off this foot for a bit, as long as you can…” he drew a slow, deep breath and half-turned, shifting closer, “I'm sorry if… if I have misunderstood you, but I wouldn't have left for just anyone. I _felt_ something that night, like I had found what I've been looking for all this time. Purpose, a future, I don't know-”

Someone strike him, he was babbling, worse than a fool and spilling months of secrets when Eret could just as easily have been misreading _him._ But an iron-hot hand covered his where it fisted in the grass and he jolted, only just peeking up. _God_ the look in Eret’s eyes was the stuff of ballads, golden and uncertain and hopeful, and Cassian wanted to kiss him so badly it _hurt._

“I couldn't stop thinking about you.” Eret confessed in turn, “When you left, I wanted to call you back, find a way to take you along… But I couldn't, I just couldn't _talk._ And I couldn't drag you into the life of a trapper, not serving under _Drago Bludvist._ Once I came to Berk, I wanted to go back more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. But they needed me here, they needed all the help they could get to rebuild before winter. I had to hope that you'd still be there, or somewhere I could find you by the time I was free to leave. Because I felt that- that _call_ too, from that morning, I- you, against the sunrise, I'd never seen anyone so-”

Eret stumbled over his words, flushing red as he finally met Cassian’s eyes.

“I don't even know, you were so free and _alive_ and I'd forgotten what that even felt like. I didn't want to leave all that behind, it was like _magic._ _"_

He lost his breath in a shuddering rush, throat constricting. He couldn't speak, or breathe as tears pricked at his eyes. No one had ever said such a thing to him, not _meaning_ it. Pure poetry, the stuff straight from the heart like in all the stories. And, he made a _difference?_ Eret’s face fell as he shifted, raising a hand to brush away a- a _tear,_ as it tracked down his cheek. Damn, he shouldn't be crying like this, but Eret’s hand stayed, fingers just brushing his skin, and he leaned into that touch. _God_ he was so warm…

“I've heard it said, that though our bodies are mortal, souls live on forever…” he eventually said, barely above a whisper, “Every soul has it's match, and with every new life those two souls long for each other. I thought it was just a fairy story for lovesick children but- then I met _you._ I've never felt like this before it's- it's like I've always known you, like this was _supposed_ to happen.”

He ran out of words under a sudden rush of fatigue, leaning harder into Eret’s hand, against his leg… and could only watch and wait as Eret’s face fell in contemplation.

“Even if that's true… we don't really _know_ each other do we? It's not like we can't feel anything, but- there's this saying; don't check how deep a puddle is with both feet. We have time, we don't have to rush anywhere. I want to show you everything because I think Berk is where you were always meant to be, and not just… not just for me. _Because_ of me.” Eret gazed so soft as he ran a thumb over Cassian’s cheek, _warm, warm, warm..._

He was right of course, they'd only known each other a matter of days _._ It would be naive to jump headfirst into a relationship. But his heart felt fit to _burst_ and he could only manage a mute nod of agreement. There was no harm in taking things- _this_ slow. They owed it to themselves, and each other in a way, to see with clear eyes what they wanted. Then Skullcrusher rumbled, breaking into the stillness as he pressed his nose into Eret’s back.

“Alright, alright…” he sighed, “We really should get going, I'm sure _someone_ noticed us fly by. Hiccup will probably be at the smithy, he always is and... we can talk later. Before bed.”

Cassian handed the boot back, and offered his shoulder in support as Eret stood and climbed to the front of the saddle. He didn't mind sitting behind again, not when there were places to go. It was only for a moment anyway. Skullcrusher leaned out, rising gracefully into the wind and turned towards the village in a long glide, over cliffs and trees until they reached the rooftops. The townsfolk called up to Eret from below, so _many_ voices of every age, from windows and doorways and winding lanes, and it didn't take long to catch the first confused ‘Who is that?’. He knew he would stand out like a sore thumb but he had to trust Eret, and everyone else here.

A growing crowd at the town square scattered to make room, murmurs swelling like a wave as Skullcrusher landed and ambled up to the doors of the smithy. He shifted nervously, unused to so many eyes pinning him down, picking him apart. But it wasn't _just_ people, dragons of every shape and color gathered on perches and rooftops, sniffing the air or fighting for space to get closer. Eret slipped down, thankfully keeping off his bad leg, then offered a hand for him to join. As his boots hit the ground, the hammering in the smithy ceased. Footsteps echoed inside, but _odd_ footsteps, an alternating thud and sharp metallic _click._ He fought to swallow past the lump in his throat as a tall figure emerged into the fading light. It was the man's false metal leg clicked against the flagstones, and he only looked up after dusting his hands off on his apron. There he froze, bright green eyes blinking in politely masked confusion, and slowly turned to look at Eret.

“Uh. Right. _So_. I'm home, as you can see, and this- this is Cassian.” he said, quite quickly.

Eret urged him forward with a touch, and the Chief briefly looked him up and down, calculating and impassive. Finally, Hiccup extended a hand- right, his _right_ hand he had to remind himself before he shook it firmly.

“So, _you're_ the glassmaker. Eret hasn't been able to keep his mouth shut about you.” Hiccup smirked, casting a glance over his shoulder.

“He what-”

He peeked back, finding Eret red in the face and almost _pouting._ If he had told them about the glass, did he show them the bottle? He… did find it right?

“I mean, _yes._ With a little help, I could build a workshop to make many things. Drinking glasses, bottles of every size and shape, flat panes for windows... I spent most of my _life_ making such things, all I need is a kiln, some tools, and lots of sand. With the mountains and the sea, we won't be wanting for _that,_ of course.” he stood taller, with growing confidence-

Until a black dragon fell from the sky, curling around Hiccup in a flourish of wings with a suspicious gleam in it's eye.

 _“There_ you are.” Hiccup groused, “Toothless, this is our guest-”

The dragon rumbled, low and wary as it's nostrils flared, drawing the mingled scents in deep. Toothless was _beautiful,_ lean and lithe and mottled like a wildcat with eyes like emeralds, even if those eyes bore unflinchingly into his as the dragon crept forward, slinking closer paw by paw. Toothless sniffed again, nose wrinkling, baring a few sharp teeth and yet- Cassian was not afraid. He stood still and firm even as Toothless reared up on his back legs, towering high and almost buffeting him backwards with a great sweep of his wings.

“What're you doing?” Hiccup protested.

“Toothless, _stop_!” Eret cried, sharp with _fear_ as he tried to shove himself between them but-

Cassian stopped _him,_ planting a palm firmly on his chest while he kept his eyes locked with the dragon’s. Slowly, he raised his left hand, as close to Toothless’s snout as he could reach. The dragon considered him, long and hard…

Then dropped down to all fours and rolled into his palm, even _licking_ his fingers, humming while he investigated as only a dragon could. Toothless’s pupils blew wide and round, dark with delight and interest as he surged forward to sniff around his face.

“What was _that_ all about?” Hiccup huffed, hands on his hips.

He could only manage a weak, exhilarated laugh, at least until Eret took the hand still pressed against him, folding it in his own. Eret, the whole _village_ stared in shock, probably confusion, and no one made a sound.

“Well!” Hiccup clapped his hands sharply, “It's late, and you've both had a long trip. You can tell me about this workshop tomorrow, and what you'll need for it. We’ll throw a proper welcome party and everything.”

He yawned right on cue, and Eret politely tried not to laugh as he left to pull their bags from the saddle. Skullcrusher deserved a good rest and all the fish he could eat after all that flying, but he only trundled off once his rider shooed him.

“Here, this way…” Eret steered him onwards.

The crowd parted to let them pass and the murmuring returned in earnest, but he ignored them. The _humans_ anyway. The dragons he couldn't tear his eyes from, and one in particular was not content to let them go. It followed their path from the rooftops, shoving other dragons aside as it hopped along until it ran out of houses so it dropped down, out of sight as they rounded a corner.

“There's a dragon following us. A purple one.” he said.

Eret glanced back in time to see the dragon peek around the corner of a house.

“‘S just a Nadder, don't worry about it.” he said, stopping before a door.

This house was smaller than some of the others, most of the lower floor seemed to be like a big open barn, full of straw- for _Skullcrusher,_ of course. 

“But, it _followed_ us.” he insisted, looking back down the path.

“They do that, especially the young ones. He's just curious.”

Eret had to give a good shove to get the door open, and he followed into the long, narrow room. Stairs carved out of a single huge log rose along the interior wall on the left, sloping over a deep, cold hearth. The stone chimney rose right through the center of the house to the peaked roof and the loft seemed to be wide open, that must be where the bed was. There was some furniture on this level, a table and chairs on the far end, shelves along the right wall, a few crates… He shut the door behind them, plunging the room into darkness. Oh, that was stupid…

“Damn- Cass, could you open the window? To the right- no wait _left_ of the door.” Eret said from the shadows.

“Right, yes… I mean, left- that. Yes.” he spluttered, heart pounding. No one had called him that in _years._

He stumbled a few paces over, found the latch on the hefty shutters, threw them open- and leapt back with a strangled yelp when a large purple snout thrust itself into the window, sniffing eagerly. It's head was just slightly too-big to fit all the way through but it still made the effort, whining and squawking. Eret looked over, and shook his head.

“You're a persistent one. Here, make yourself useful.” Eret strode over.

He shoved the Nadder’s head back out of the frame, ignoring it's protests as he waved a bundle of kindling under it's nose.

“Give us a light, yeah?” Eret asked.

The Nadder grumbled, but coughed a few delicate sparks onto the twigs and bark, where they caught and smoldered. They could just, understand? How-

“Good lad! On with you now, it's late. You can play tomorrow.”

Eret gave the dragon a little scratch under the jaw, then hurried back to the hearth as the kindling burned more readily. But the Nadder stayed, and slowly sat back on it's haunches with it's chin propped up on the window sill.

“Well hello there…” he murmured, inching closer.

The Nadder chirped, quite like a bird and tilted it's head to look around it's long nose-horn. It was straighter on this one than some of the other Nadders, almost like a saber blade. Slowly, he brushed half-curled fingers up the dragon’s snout and it cooed sweetly, pupils blowing wide. He dared go further, scratching under it's jaw as Eret had and the Nadder squealed in delight, rolling back and forth to guide his hand along. The skin there was soft, thin, wrinkling under his fingertips as he dragged them over it's scales- one of those scales flaked off, catching under his thumbnail like a splinter. He jerked back with a hiss, ripping the scale free. It _hurt_ but… he wasn't bleeding.

“Uh, Eret? Scales are _supposed_ to shed, yes?” he asked slowly.

“Hmm?” Eret looked up from the fire, “Oh, yeah that's fine, they're always shedding. We have scratching posts all over for them, and those scales are _mighty_ useful. You can even make fireproof armor out of them.”

He gestured to a stand in the far corner, where a helmet and breastplate of familiar green scales hung, gleaming in the growing firelight.

 _“Oh.”_ he breathed.

He crossed the room in a few great strides, he _needed_ to see this up close. The breastplate was broad, it had to be for it's wearer, flowing in jointed plates to a long kilt, belted thickly around the middle. It seemed to lack pauldrons, and the matching greaves and bracers lay in a chest next to the stand. But the _helmet._ Unthinking, he set the little scale aside and gently lifted the helm free, cradling it in his hands. It was simple, one smooth plate sweeping into broad, curled horns, all gleaming red as garnet. The thought of that mask, that armor, shining amidst smoke and dragonfire set a shiver crawling up his spine.

“It's not quite finished…” Eret said, so suddenly close he jolted.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I shouldn't be playing with this…” he babbled, putting the helmet back.

“It's fine. Once Skullcrusher sheds a few more big scales I can finally finish the pauldrons and boots. There's no other dragon with his colors, and I'm not about to start mismatching things _now.”_ Eret cracked a little smile, “But we have Nadder scales by the barrel, I'm sure we can get a suit put together for you. With wings and everything!”

“...wings?” he squinted.

He must not have heard correctly, how could armor have wings? But Eret smiled knowingly, and dug under the rest of the armor to remove a leather suit that looked to be tailored to him. With _painstaking_ attention to detail, he noted. It was soft, well-beaten leather, at least where it needed to move most around the joints, all the same green as the scale plate. But along the side seams, the leather was thicker, like a large swathe of it was gathered from calf to armpit. Eret laid the suit out on the table, unpinning the flap and stretching it out, filling the space between the body and spread sleeve from ankle to wrist. Two long loops of leather lined up roughly at the wrist and hand, that must be how he held them out. But, how was Eret meant to fly with these? He surely couldn't _flap_ like a bird.

“I'm not very good with them, but I can manage to _not_ fall out of the sky.” Eret chuckled, “Hiccup has a new design, with these metal frames built right into the armor. I think I'll just bumble along with this.”

“You really can _fly_ with this?” he asked breathlessly. Would the wonders ever cease?

“In a way. It's more like gliding really, we still need our dragons to get in the air, or catch us. You can't land with these things either, not in one piece anyway.” Eret winced.

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense.”

Of course, he should've known. This was a land of dragons, not magic _._ Still, to soar in the sky like a dragon, _with_ them… Heavens it was a good thing he was so tired, otherwise he wouldn't be able to sleep. Again. He yawned, and muttered a curse. The sun was barely down, he didn't _want_ to sleep yet.

“I'll go get us some dinner, feel free to settle in, clean up. There's water warming in the kettle, a washcloth…” Eret cut himself short with a cough, and packed his suit away.

Yes, he _could_ use a wash, and a change of clothes. Eret left, but the Nadder remained in the window, eyes drifting shut as it purred with every puff of breath. Such a sweet thing… it needed a name, if it didn't have one already. What did they call that shade of purple again? The one from the _snails…_

_***_

Eret glanced at the dragon parked in his window, shaking his head. He knew better than most how a Nadder could fixate on someone, best to leave it be. Maybe Cassian’s dragon had chosen him already, and a Nadder to boot! A _purple_ one! He could dwell on that tomorrow, for now they needed more firewood, water, and then dinner. And he would _not_ ignore the wine anymore, there was no better time to get that bottle open. The firewood came first though, by virtue of being closest. He filled the barrow, wheeled it back home and dumped the contents by the door, startling the Nadder awake. It glared at him as he left, grumbling its own dragon-curses. Eh, let it have its fun. By the sound of the snoring in the stall, Skullcrusher had returned and gone right to sleep. Good, good… he damn well earned his rest, bringing them both so far. Back the barrow went, and two buckets of water for the rain-barrel around back would have to do until tomorrow. Finally, he trudged up the hill to the Great Hall.

The ever-present pot of stew and bowls of bread waited by the central hearth, but the second Eret set foot inside, the hall grew silent. Then, the questions came rushing in.

“Eret, where'd you run off to?”

“Who _was_ that?”

“If you need any dating advice, _I'll_ be your wingma- _Ow!”_

He stopped, and turned slowly to glare at Tuffnut, who pouted as he rubbed a sore shoulder.

 _“Enough._ Leave him alone already.” Astrid snapped, as much to him as the whole room.

Slowly, the Berkians returned to their own business, but they still snuck furtive glances over. Astrid huffed, crossing her arms.

“The _nerve._ You'd think they never met someone new before.” she muttered.

“Thank you Astrid. We’ll come by in the morning, I'm sure Hiccup wants to hear more.” he sighed, scrubbing at one eye.

“He does, but… you're _sure_ he’ll fit in?” she asked more quietly.

“There’s a Nadder with it's _head_ stuck in my window because it wants to get at him so badly, fitting in won't be a problem. I think it's just a matter of the _newness_ wearing off.” try as he might, he couldn't keep a smile from tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“A Nadder? Well, I guess we _have_ to keep him around now.” Astrid teased, breaking into one of her snorting giggles. Adorable, that was.

“More’s the pity…” Tuffnut drawled, “He looked like Zippleback material to _me.”_

He grimaced, and Astrid only laughed harder.

“Well if you'll excuse me, I need food before I drop.” he sped away.

Before he could be interrupted further, he filled two bowls, grabbed bread and spoons, and nearly made it out the door when something hooked his sleeve. He stopped short, looking down to find Gothi wheezing a silent laugh as she pushed a little wrapped parcel across the table with a wink. Eret mumbled his thanks, snagged the knotted cloth with a spare finger and nearly _bolted_ for the door.

“It's gonna be a _cold_ night Eret, better- ow, Astrid no! _Ow!”_ Tuffnut wailed.

Face flaming, he trudged home as quick as he dared. The Nadder was _still_ at the window but the firewood… was gone. He groaned, shoving the door open with his shoulder. He did _not_ want to go back to the damn wood stack. But the bowls tilted, nearly falling, then he almost lost the spoons-

Faster than he could blink, Cassian was there, taking what he could out of his hands.

“If you needed help, you could have said so…” he scolded.

“I thought you could use a moment alone, normally I can manage.” he shrugged, nudging the door closed.

Cassian seemed to have changed clothes, still wearing a black tunic but with a different cut. A more _flattering_ one. He gave himself a quick shake and followed along to put everything on the table but stopped, staring at the hearth. Well, _there_ was the firewood, in it's tall rack in the corner... Cassian must've taken it in. The domesticity of it all set his heart fluttering, at least until his stomach growled. Right, food. He set his share down at the table, then got one last thing: the wine. He brushed off the dust and snagged two cups and set the bottle down before Cassian, who froze, eyes wide.

“You kept it.” he said weakly.

“Yeah. I- it wouldn't feel right, finishing it alone.” Eret ducked his head bashfully.

Cassian snatched the bottle, but paused as soon as his fingers closed around the cork, hesitating…

“You have… kept it out of the _sun,_ yes?” he asked cautiously.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“It would've gone rancid. Not a pleasant for anyone in half the city.” Cassian’s nose wrinkled in disgust that spoke of experience.

He pulled the cork and sniffed the contents, just in case, then filled both cups generously. Eret gladly took his, relishing that first sip. It was still sweet, rich, and perhaps a little stronger with age. They best not imbibe in _too_ much, just in case. They ate in comfortable silence, glad for a real dinner at a proper table, with proper chairs and a _proper_ fire. He finished his last bite of bread and finally pulled over Gothi’s bundle to unpick the stubborn knot. The waxed cloth fell stiffly open and away from a stack of cakes, soaked in honey until they glistened.

“Thor almighty.”

He didn't think twice about grabbing the first and froze with it stuffed in his mouth nearly whole, gaze sliding over to Cassian. He stared back, spoon dripping it's contents back into the bowl, until his face creased and he slumped against the table, wheezing with muffled laughter and trying so hard to cover his face. He failed, but that smile was the stuff of _ballads._

“S’rry.” Eret mumbled, face burning with embarrassment. 

They didn't finish _all_ the wine, one cup was enough to leave even him a little drunk. Only a little. Enough to be pleasantly flushed and warm, laughing and smiling easily. But Cassian yawned, and he followed soon after.

“Yeah, it's bedtime. Not sure when we’ll be able to relax tomorrow, Hiccup wants to meet up for breakfast. Talk a little more privately and all that.” he said mid-stretch.

He stumbled to his feet and gathered their dishes to wash. Later. 

“You'll be taking the bed, no convincing me otherwise. Fair is fair.” he added.

Cassian glanced up towards the loft, nibbling at his lip.

“It… is not a _small_ bed.” he said quietly.

 _Oh no._ He busied himself with the dishes and tidying up, glad his face was already so red. It was so very tempting but… maybe not responsible. Not yet.

“Not- not tonight.” he stammered, “I'll manage, you need a good night’s rest.”

Cassian nodded slowly, and yawned again. Without another word, he trudged up the stairs to the loft and tucked himself into bed, by the sound of it at least. He let out a long, slow breath, got fed up with the dishes and left them to soak, then corked the wine. The bottle was still half-full, so there was one more drink to share between them. Someday, when the time was right. Now, _he_ could get ready to sleep. The water in the kettle was still warm, so he stripped down and scrubbed clean, drying quickly before the hearth. With a fresh change of clothes, he banked the fire and almost made it up the stairs when the Nadder snored like a lumberjack's saw in the window. After a few gentle shoves, he evicted the dragon and closed the shutters against the night. _Finally,_ he stumbled into the loft, tossed open his bedroll, and found a spare blanket to use as a pillow. But, before he tucked in, he stole one last glance at the bed. Cassian had hitched the covers as high as his nose and turned his face deeper into the pillow, breathed deep, let out a little throaty sigh… Right, time for bed.


	5. Chapter 5

Cassian woke to the sound of something scraping up and down the door, up and down, up and down… He reluctantly sat up, groaning as he scrubbed the ache from his face. All the flying left his skin wind-chapped and dry as a lizard's, if only there was shea-balm, or even just almond oil _._ But it was morning, his _first_ morning on Berk and the sun seeped through the shutters on the upper window, still golden-warm with the last dregs of dawn. That sparked enough fire in him to roll out of the plush bed and he nearly trampled Eret where he lay on the floor for his troubles. He stumbled, dancing away from the bedroll until he caught himself on a small desk and froze there. Eret sighed, shifted, but did not wake. In the night, his hair must've come undone and now it fanned out like black wings around his head, still shining-sleek through all his tossing and turning.

Cassian drew a quiet breath, and knelt at Eret’s side to brush the hair from his face. His nose wrinkled as the strands dragged over his eyes and, after a moment, those eyes fluttered open, honey-warm in the shaft of light. Oh, that _color..._ Cassian swallowed around his heart where it lodged firmly in his throat.

“Morning. Sorry to wake you.” and he couldn't help but smile. The domesticity of it all, even with one of them on the floor...

Eret mumbled, and slowly sat up.

“What’s that scratching?” he finally rasped.

“Something at the door, I only just woke up myself.” Cassian said.

“If it's that _damn_ Nadder-”

Eret kicked out of the bedroll and trudged downstairs, and after a moment he followed. Down below Eret yanked open the door, startling the purple Nadder where it stood so badly that it flailed and fluttered back a step. It caught it's balance and then chirped, looking inside expectantly around Eret, who groaned, head falling back.

“You _are_ your mother’s child.” he turned back inside to fetch his boots.

“...who is his mother?” Cassian asked, gathering his own clothes.

“Stormfly, a blue and gold Nadder. She's Astrid’s dragon. Ah- Hiccup’s future wife.”

He chuckled, “So she is persistent too?”

 _“Very._ She’s the one that dragged me into all this, kicking and screaming. But… she saved my life too. And I wouldn't be here without her.” Eret sighed, scratching his neck.

He turned to stare at the door, as the Nadder slowly leaned inside. He hastily laced his last boot, tossed his mantle around his shoulders, and shot to the door. The Nadder gobbled in delight, thrusting the whole of it's head into his waiting arms so he could scratch the dragon’s jaws in long, slow circles-

“Careful!” Eret snapped, then reeled himself in, “Careful, there's a pressure point under their jaw, it knocks them right out. Not a good place for that to happen.”

“Oh. Yes, let's _not_ do that.” he scratched the Nadder’s cheeks and brow instead.

“If you're ready, we can get going. There's a lot to see.”

Eret didn't even have to ask. He ducked under the dragon’s head, darted out the door, down the path, and the Nadder was quick to give chase. But after a few steps, he slowed to a stop. He... had no idea where they were going. So he waited, and the Nadder eagerly sniffed him all over, hands to hair to boots and back. Eret finally emerged, closing the door as he straightened his dragonscale vest, and raked fingers through his hair, still unbound. He looked so _different_ with it down, so handsome it left him dizzy. The Nadder clucked, rubbing it's nose against his arm and the force of it almost knocked him flat.

“We’re _going,_ you don't have to be a brat.” Eret rolled his eyes.

“Now, don't you listen to him-” he paused, as the word came to him like a thunderclap, _“Tyrian,_ that's the damn color! Yes, Tyrian suits you.”

Tyrian the Nadder _squealed_ in delight, almost bowling him right over again with his huge head. He laughed wild and deep, clinging to the dragon’s nose-horn.

“Alright, alright! We have places to be. Let's walk, come along now…” he chuckled, scratching the dragon’s brow.

Tyrian was content to follow, but only with his chin resting atop his head and Eret broke into a new bout of stifled giggles every time they caught each other’s eyes. Cassian gave him a half-hearted swat on the arm after the third time.

The path wound up, up, so high uphill and he was left winded at the crest of it, but the home that waited there was stunning, with it's painted beams and shingles like scales. Twin shadows passing overhead brought them all to a stop and Toothless dropped from the sky, followed by a blue and gold Nadder. Such a Nadder, with Toothless and Hiccup, ridden by a woman… that must be _Stormfly,_ and Astrid. Tyrian thrilled, bolting forward to bow and bob, fluttering his wings in greeting and Stormfly was quick to reciprocate. The Nadders nuzzled sweetly, finally allowing Astrid to hop down.

“You didn't say it was one of _Stormfly’s_ kids!” she laughed.

“I wasn't sure ‘till this morning. Slept outside my window all night, and almost broke my door down this morning.” Eret huffed.

“That sounds like Stormfly all right.” Hiccup chortled, “Let's get inside, breakfast is ready. Seems like we have a lot to talk about.”

The dragons set off on their own, after Toothless clawed at something on his tail- Wait, that was leather, metal, the whole left flap was _false,_ like Hiccup’s leg. The Night Fury flicked his good fin, and the false half moved with it. Seemingly satisfied, he rocketed off after the Nadders. When Cassian looked back to the door, he found Hiccup waiting, and watching _him._

“Yeah, that's a long story. But, invention's what keeps Berk flourishing. We couldn't help so many dragons without it.” the chief said.

He could only nod, and follow Hiccup and Astrid inside.

The room was dim but warm, and he sat where Astrid gestured to the table. He knew he shouldn't be nervous, but… he was glad to have Eret at his side. Chief and Chieftess returned with steaming bowls of porridge, pouring a little milk and honey over each.

“Now-” Hiccup said, laying out a stack of parchment scraps, “What exactly does a glass shop need? We are a bit limited to what we have on the island.”

“Well, for _tools_ the hardest to make will be the blowpipes. They need to be about _this_ long-” he measured out a span of several feet on the table, “-and about as thick as a thumb. Aside from that, I need tongs, shears…”

Hiccup pushed the parchment and a charcoal pencil closer.

“Oh, thank you. A shaping tool, like this-”

He sketched the familiar shape of long, thin, straight-armed shears, and glanced up to catch the surprised twitch in Hiccup’s brows.

“Well, I'm finally not the only one on Berk that’s left-handed!” he chuckled.

“The curse is lifted at least!” Astrid teased, poking at his side.

Wait- they didn't _mind?_ His heart still fluttered from nerves, but- focus, _focus_ they were in the middle of something.

Hiccup rolled his eyes, “Right. So tools like that'll be easy enough, we could almost get them done in an afternoon. But pipes… that might take a few tries. And you mentioned a kiln?”

“Yes, that is simple as well. Just… a big box really, of baked clay with a big door on the front and a vent at the top…” he sketched away, “We won't be wanting for _fire._ But there must be a cooling cave, fed by the same heat as the kiln to keep the pieces hot. When the chamber is full, you close the vents and let it cool very, _very_ slowly, the slower the better. The glass will shatter otherwise. But apart from that, I could need buckets, wooden paddles like _this,_ metal shapers and a long paddle like _this_ to make flat panes… And a pot of ceramic, to hold and melt the glass in the kiln, and maybe some racks in the cooling cave to fit many tiles. For the glass itself, it's just sand, dried and burned so it is more pure. Rivers have the best. Plus, crushed shells, any will do, and wood ash. Those help the sand melt more quickly.”

He paused to eat a little, wracking his brain for anything else.

“And that… is just about everything really. There are some fancier tools for decorating, but I can get by without them and... help would be wonderful. It really is a two-man job, I can train them along the way- _Oh,_ the rolling bench!”

He sketched one more item, two parallel bars with a seat between them. That should do it.

“Well, I'm sure there's at least one person on Berk that would volunteer.” Astrid said, waggling her eyebrows at-

Eret, who fumed silently and shoveled more porridge into his mouth.

 _“Astrid,_ ease up a little.” Hiccup scolded gently, “Anyway, _my_ turn. It seems that Nadder’s keen on you, and we have a few spare saddles that will fit. We’ll go for a spin, see what's most comfortable for you, get something fit for your, uh… style.”

He could read between the lines well enough, the chief most likely meant _size_ and he was increasingly aware that the people of Berk were very, very tall. Even Astrid was taller by a hair. But that meant he could be lighter, faster- In time, in time. He nodded and finished his meal, though he was so excited it was hard to swallow. They all finished, helped clean, and Astrid jogged home for one of Stormfly’s old saddles. The dragons still circled overhead, Toothless’s red tail-fin fluttered as he tumbled and twirled… He looked to Hiccup, who likewise had his eyes on the sky.

“If, I may ask Chief…” he asked haltingly, “How did that happen? To his tail.”

Hiccup snapped to attention, looking to him with guarded surprise.

“That's… a bit of a long story. But it's how all of _this_ happened.” he gestured to all of Berk, _“I'm_ the one that did it. In the thick of a dragon attack, I shot him down and it was lost somewhere in the fall. It was a different time, us or them, and I wanted to make up for a lifetime of failures. To my father, the village… But when I found Toothless in the woods, I couldn't kill him. I learned from him instead, that everything we thought we knew was _wrong,_ and I fixed my mistake. We proved to everyone that there was another way, and here we are. We had to fight for it, and we’ve- we've lost some people along the way. But Berk is something worth fighting for, no matter what comes. With all the trappers prowling, I don't think we’ll have much more peace.”

He frowned, lips pressed thin, but the tension in his shoulders melted away as Astrid made her return up the hill. The saddle over her arm was utilitarian, leather around a little wooden framing, simple straps and buckles, and no decoration, not _so_ different from what Cassian was used to for horses. It wasn't as wide or deep of course, if it was like Stormfly's he'd be riding with his legs drawn up higher, hunching lower, making himself small and close to the dragon's back. That made sense, he had to keep out of the way of all the flapping. Right on cue, the Nadders squawked above them and swooped in to crowd around Astrid, chattering and hounding her.

“Alright, hold _on-”_ she batted them away.

“C’mon, you should see how to get this on. Nadders are a breeze.” Eret steered him forward with a hand at the small of his back.

He didn't need telling twice. Astrid already had the saddle over Tyrian, slightly behind his wings and closer to his hips, which made even more sense once he thought about it. That would mean sitting closer to the dragon’s natural point of balance, and not getting in the way of his shoulders. He ducked under Tyrian’s neck to his other side, and joined Astrid in straightening out the straps, one pair before and another behind the wings. 

“So, always put the saddle further forward than you think it needs to be, and slide it _back_ into place. You could pinch their scales trying to move it too much, and they _will_ let you know about it.” Astrid instructed over the Nadder’s back, “The breast-strap should be as tight as you can get it, on a Nadder anyway, but you should still be able to fit a few fingers under the belly and tail-straps after you buckle them.”

Just like with horses then, though maybe he should look into making a pad for the underside, couldn't go leaving his dragon covered in sores. Merciful heaven, could dragons get _rain-rot?_ Later, he would ask later. At least they didn't have _hooves,_ if he never had to deal with thrush again he could die a happy man. The straps buckled under Tyrian's chest, with one more strap connecting the buckles right down the center to keep the bands from straying. Tyrian stretched, flapped his wings, and pranced over to Stormfly as if to show off that he matched. But he scrambled right back, wiggling all over as he slid to a stop and crouched to encourage Cassian up. The stirrups were no more than long loops of leather, floppy and unsupported as he set his foot in one to throw his leg over the saddle. At least _this_ part was familiar… Tyrian lurched to his feet the second he leaned on the pommel-bar, forcing him to grip hard with his knees when he was nearly thrown.

“Now, Nadders are a _lot_ faster than Rumblehorns, you'll want to-”

Astrid didn't get to finish that thought. Tyrian sprinted down the hill, wings pounding, and they were _flying._ On pure instinct he leaned forward, bracing on the pommel and rising a little higher to ride out the worst of the bouncing. The saddle wasn't quite long enough for him to crouch forward over Tyrian’s back like he wanted, he had to hunch awkwardly just to fit. They shot over the rooftops, faster, _faster-_ until the whipping wind was almost too much to open his eyes against. He would _definitely_ have to make some goggles, with proper lenses. Maybe a better mantle, or even a jacket too, the sky was biting cold and it nearly ripped the cowl from his neck. But he didn't care, they were _free._ He leaned left and Tyrian obliged, circling wide over the ocean and back to Berk, where Stormfly and Toothless were racing to meet them. They turned much more adeptly, rising together off his left and Hiccup watched closely, brows furrowed and lips pursed in thought.

“Not a bad start!” he shouted, “How’s the saddle!”

“Too short!” Cassian answered, “I need more room out front!”

Hiccup nodded, “Here follow us! Let's put you two through your paces!”

Toothless shot ahead, and he adjusted his grip in the saddle before urging Tyrian to follow while Stormfly settled in at their flank. The Night Fury dove and he clenched hard with his knees as Tyrian folded his wings to do the same, and the world fell away. They pulled up slow, banking around the cliffs of Berk just below the mouth of the hangar bay as waves thundered against the rocks below, and even this high he could taste the salt of the spray. Dragons flocked all around them, calling raucously to the Chief and his dragon, but Toothless ignored all that and pressed on, out and around to the northern shores. Great towers of stone clustered in the sea here, like the bones and teeth of some long-lost giant, and Toothless aimed right for them.

“If you aren't sure, you don't have to-” Astrid started to say.

But he _was_ sure. He leaned forward, arching a bit higher for balance. _He_ would have to be Tyrian’s eyes with how tight these turns were, too close for the Nadder to see clearly. They followed the Night Fury’s tail, and he forced himself to only look ahead, Tyrian could account for the rock already around them. He leaned right, left, _harder_ left, hauled back on the pommel when the pass ahead closed too tight for their wings, right again- 

And they burst into the open sky once more. He huffed a breathless, wild laugh, slumping bonelessly and that nearly pitched him backwards off Tyrian's tail. Which... Toothless and Stormfly probably saw once they caught up, and for a time their riders were too stunned to speak.

“Let's get back!” Hiccup finally ordered, and they wheeled away.

They returned to the grand house on the hill where Eret had been left to wait, apparently with a flock of baby Scuttleclaws for company. The dragon-pile he'd been buried in scattered at the sight of Toothless, save for one, rust-red and green and bigger than the others. It chased after Eret's heels as he ran to where Tyrian landed with a spritely bounce across the wide stairs, stopping firmly in the grass after a few more steps. Cassian was weak with bouts of giddy laughter and he dropped out of the saddle into Eret’s open arms, limp as a fish but still _grinning._ He paid no mind to Tyrian scolding the Scuttleclaw off, or Stormfly and Toothless landing, their riders dismounting...

“That was-” he gasped.

“Impressive for a first-timer.” Hiccup finished, "Right up until the end at least."

“How'd you even manage that?” Astrid muttered, "Skullcrusher I could understand, but a Nadder..."

“I- I don't know _,_ I just- it was _instinct._ I acted before I even knew it was the right thing to do.” he wobbled, and laughed again.

Tyrian cooed, rubbing his snout against them both and he paused, looking between Eret and the Scuttleclaws still lurking around the corner of Hiccup’s house.

“They ambushed me.” Eret muttered, “A story for later.”

“We _will_ need to fix that saddle. You had a few close calls.” Hiccup mused as he slipped off Toothless, “We can extend the front for a little more room, add a backrest…”

“We need to fix the stirrups too.” Astrid added.

“Yeah, something solid across the bottom, it needs more grip…”

He lost track of their chatter, he was still _buzzing_ with adrenaline so badly his arms and legs trembled, and he would have fallen without… He swallowed hard, hands sliding higher up Eret’s strong arms, curling around his huge biceps. Something about the contrast between their skin left his mouth dry, and his fingers couldn't even reach halfway around the great span of muscle there. And the scars... those stood out like cords under his fingertips and his smile fell, first a fraction and then completely as he traced the dozens of marks. He'd forgotten how many there were… and some looked _new._ Scratches, burns, bites, silvered with age or angry red-

“It's fine.” Eret murmured, “Comes with the territory. But it looks like we have some work to catch up on.”

He rubbed Cassian’s arm, giving a gentle squeeze, and he slowly nodded as Tyrian returned, minus the saddle. Eret turned him, hand settling low on his back once more, and the warmth made him shiver. This… this was nice. They walked and the dragons followed, all _downhill_ thankfully since his legs were still weak, probably from the strain of holding on. This would take a lot of practice, to even start reaching the level of strength of the other riders…

In the smithy, Hiccup tossed the saddle over a sawhorse and started unpicking the stitches, humming and mumbling under his breath. Within minutes the seat was stripped down to the frame with only the quilted cloth pad left on the underside, and Astrid returned with an armful of scrap wood and half-finished parts.

“Alright… so, we can extend the frame _here,_ just reposition the handles, build up the back here…” Hiccup sorted through the wood.

Eret prised the handle mount off the frame, making room for something new. A longer strut maybe? Yes, that could work, but he'd leave all that planning to the experts.

“Oh, elbow rests!” Astrid handed over a thinner plank.

“Right, we can pad that up too. Cassian, if you could take a seat we’ll get this measured out right.” Hiccup twirled a pencil around his fingers.

It was awkward to balance, but Eret offered a steadying arm as he leaned forward at a comfortable angle. Hiccup adjusted the new pieces and outlined their positions, then marked another block of the right height for the backrest.

“There, that should do it. Nail down the frame, get a solid seat on… We’ve got scrap leather over there, if you could sort through for some bigger bits.”

Hiccup pointed to the corner, and he dragged a stool over to sit as he sorted through the box. There was plenty of leather there, even some old sailcloth that could be used as a backing for the pads. A bigger piece for the seat, palm-sized scraps for the elbow rest, some to cut into long strips to wrap the pommel, a more rectangular piece for the backrest… He wasn't much of a smith or a carpenter, but this much he could do, once he got an awl, a trimming knife, needle and thread and wax… Well, this was looking to be the sum of his afternoon. He returned to the sawhorse and stole Hiccup’s pencil to sketch out the right sizes for the cushions on the leather, humming to himself all the while, an old song... 

“The leather tools are against that wall, you can work at the bench there. Well, you've worked with leather before, right?” Eret stooped to pick up a fallen scrap.

“Yes, I can manage a little stitching. By the time a mother has four sons, she’s long run out of patience with the mending. As soon as I could _hold_ a needle I was made to help, even after my sister came along. But, it's a good thing to know, anyone that sneers about it being ‘women’s work’ is a fool.” Cassian shook his head, laying his work out on the table.

 _“Finally,_ a man with sense!” someone, a short man, shouted from outside.

“I can sew _too!”_ Hiccup snapped back.

“Not as good as _me!”_

Eret joined him, rolling his eyes as he fetched the tools from a bin mounted on the wall, laying out needles, a curved knife, a block of hard beeswax… Then just looked at him, and he knew that look. Eret had questions.

“Yes?” he prompted, as he made the first scores in the leather.

“You… had siblings?” Eret asked, more quietly.

Ah. Yes, they hadn’t really gotten to talk about themselves, their pasts, family… Well, no time like the present.

“Yes. Three brothers, all older, and a sister, five years younger. I worked in the shop with my father and brothers, but as the youngest I was left to do the work everyone else hated. Cleaning the furnaces, mixing the melt, fixing the tools… It took _years_ to actually start making glass. But, the joke is now on them. I’m probably the only one that could build a shop from nothing. My first two brothers were being groomed to inherit, the third was eventually apprenticed off to a silversmith, and I… I was just a spare. Once my brothers had their own sons, I would be out on my own.”

A small, bitter smile crossed his face, but only fleetingly.

“Is… that why you left?”

“Yes. In part at least. There was also more and more talk about marrying me off and… I had a choice to make. Stay, knowing I would be miserable, or leave and follow that call, and only _maybe_ be miserable. It was not a hard choice to make. That was… almost five years ago now. I think it's been worth it.” his smile stayed small but, sweeter.

But with the distraction the knife slipped, nicking into his thumb. He hissed, dropping the knife as he jerked back. A tiny bead of blood welled when he looked, nothing at all really, but Eret still snatched his hand, cradled it close to examine the wound.

“It's fine, just a scratch.” he insisted.

“Just- just checking.” Eret averted his eyes, focusing instead on his hand.

It was funny, he thought, as big as Eret was, _here_ they were nearly matched. His pale hands were calloused but slender, _artful_ even, and just as scarred as the rest of him. Beautiful.

“I'm not used to knives like this. I don't suppose I can pass the cutting off to you?” he chuckled.

“I can manage, yeah.” Eret reluctantly let go, “The cloth is for… padding? Will that be enough?”

“No, that's for the underside of the cushions, so there’s less leather to stamp. What do you normally use, straw, grass..?”

“We have a bin, I'll get some once this is done.”

With a few more cuts, Eret finished the first piece and passed it down, and Cassian took up the awl and mallet to start the long process of punching holes for the seams, an inch in from the edge, all the way around. Tap, tap, tap, on and on he went, awl to leather, hammer to awl, awl through leather and back again. There was no skimping, these seams needed to be tight, but… oh, if the filling settled, would he not need to open it up again? That would require pulling the rivets out however… Better to over-fill them now, and break the saddle in as he trained.. Behind them, the bellows hissed and the forge roared, hammer struck anvil and iron, and a blade rasped over wood. He snuck a glance over his shoulder, finding Hiccup filing away at the backrest, and a mountain of a man at the hearth. He stared, so long Eret noticed.

“Oh, that's Gobber, the head blacksmith. He’s… well, you'll see.” he chuckled.

“My ears aren't _that_ far gone lad!” Gobber barked, wagging his tongs their way.

 _“A little grumpy.”_ Eret leaned in close to whisper, “Sometimes anyway. But he’s as good as family to everyone here, Hiccup most of all. Oh, you'll _have_ to meet Valka once she gets back, you're gonna love Cloudjumper-”

They worked through the morning and into the afternoon, with a quick break for lunch. The new frame was filed to a neat finish and polished smooth, ready for the pads Cassian had completed. The extension was raised slightly to arch over his dragon’s shoulders, not only to spare them making more pads but also to avoid laying pressure on Tyrian’s spine. The stirrup-loops were sewn together down the center, now with flat wooden footrests riveted across the bottom and tethers to the belly-straps to keep them from flailing too much, all in addition to rest-bars on the frame that would support his knees. Hiccup riveted all the leather into place, carefully stretching each piece one pin at a time. It was still rather plain but, it was _his._

“We need to let the leather relax a bit, an hour or two, then we can put it through another test. Think you're up to running the Kraken’s Arms again?” Hiccup smirked.

“Aga- you _took him through the Kraken’s Arms?!”_ Eret yelped.

“He did _fine-”_

“Hiccup _you_ almost died in there!” Eret seethed, clawing at his hair.

“He has a point.” Astrid looked to her fiance, raising one eyebrow.

“Well- yeah, that was a little much. Just wanted to see how it went.” Hiccup shrugged, but Astrid swatted his shoulder, “Okay, okay no Kraken…”

Those rocks were _that_ dangerous? He stared at the saddle as an icy prickle crawled up his spine. He… bested a course Hiccup almost hadn’t? Not just him, him and _Tyrian,_ a brand new bond with a scrounged up saddle. With time, what else would they be capable of?

 _“Now,_ these tools.” Gobber cut in, limping over on his false leg, “Over here lad, to the sand table. Show me what size these need to be.”

The smith smoothed a bar over a tray full of sand and handed over a stylus as Cassian joined him. The first diagram in the stack of parchment was the shaping tongs, so he measured out a sketch against the length of his forearm, elbow to just past his wrist.

“Oh, _that_ long? Huh…” Gobber muttered, jotting something down.

He traced out every tool in the sand, to occasional question or comment, until Gobber was satisfied.

“Right, easy stuff. Well, aside from the pipes. How many of those do you need?” Gobber scratched his chin.

“One, preferably two. I could also use a thin rod, for stirring the glass, but some of the work won't need a hollow pipe at all. We could... just put a short bit of pipe on the very end of a wood pole, same for the flat paddle. I was hoping to make panes for windows before winter, so if we could get _that_ done first I would be most grateful. Oh, and _lenses,_ for goggles.” he listed.

That caught Hiccup’s attention.

“Lenses?”

“Yes! With enough heat, the glass will be so smooth you can see through with perfect clarity. And if they were built into your masks, they would protect your eyes from wind, smoke, dust… And if it's ground the right way, it can even be used to make objects appear larger! But, that is very, very time-consuming.” he explained further.

“I'll be _very_ interested to see that.” Hiccup cracked an eager, wry smile.

“Oh now you've done it, givin’ him another toy to play with.” Gobber rolled his eyes.

“Hey that sounds _useful-”_

***

Eret ushered Cassian out of the forge for some fresh air, still silently fuming. What the hell was Hiccup _thinking,_ running the Kraken?! Tyrian fluttered down from a rooftop, circling his rider with a contented gurgle. There's no way a dragon this young didn't lose some skin in there, not after getting egged on by _Stormfly_. He snagged the tip of the dragon’s tail as it swung by to look it all over. Not a scratch.

“Here, hold his head. I just want to check him.” he said.

Cassian brought the Nadder to a stop with a few scratches on his jaw and as he leaned into it, Cassian’s hand slipped- Tyrian stiffened, letting out a strangled squawk as he collapsed forward, knocking his rider to the ground and pinning him there under his massive head. Cassian yelped in alarm and Eret tried to hold back his laughter.

He failed.

 _“That’s_ the pressure point.” he said between giggles, “He’ll be fine in a minute, don't worry.”

No sense letting the opportunity go to waste. He stooped, running his hands over the Nadder’s legs as far as he could see them, then checked the leading edge and tips of his wings. Not a scale out of place, anywhere. 

“Damn.” he mumbled, “You really did it.”

“Did what?” Cassian wheezed, kicking out from under the dragon’s head.

“The Kraken’s Arms. Most dragons aren't agile enough to take it at speed, it's a challenge even for experienced riders. I can't _believe_ they just-”

He hissed under his breath, kicking at a stone but as he turned away, a hand closed tight around his wrist and pulled him back.

“They did not _make_ me Eret. I chose to follow, and I trusted my dragon.” Cassian said firmly.

He drew a breath to protest, but let it pass, and nodded slowly.

“Just- be careful. _Please._ If something happened I-” there, words failed him.

Cassian’s eyes softened and he relaxed his grip, sliding their palms together and slowly, hesitantly, laced their fingers tight. Of course he would understand what he couldn't say. Twin souls and all that…

“I will. I promise.”

Cassian squeezed his hand, and he tightened his grip in turn. On a whim, they turned as one down a random path, he still owed Cassian a tour after all. Wait, Tyrian- eh, he'd be fine. They wandered through the thick of the village then down to the lower reaches, passing so many inventions and little pieces of Berkian life he was sure he missed a few, even as he pointed them out.

“So, that's the main cistern, where we get our water for washing and bathing, and the dragons drink right from the top. We’ve even trained a few Scauldrons to put out fires, which saves us a lot of trouble. Speak of the devil, _there’s_ Scauldy.” he waved, and the dragon spat a stream of water over his head that was only _barely_ boiling, “Yup, that's Scauldy alright.”

Cassian snorted with amusement, eyes creasing with the force of his smile. _Freya have mercy._

Further along, the path twisted and turned down the cliffs, but they didn't need to go all the way down to the newly-finished docks. A few ships of all sizes sat at the moorings, and only one was old.

“Your boat!” Cassian grinned.

“Yup, she's part of the fleet now. A few of the old crew stuck around, but most've gone their own way. I still like to go out sailing sometimes, feel the sea all around…” a wistful sigh escaped him.

He looked over to find a tender smile pulling at Cassian’s lips, garnet eyes meeting his- then focusing behind him as his brow slowly furrowed.

“What is _that?”_ he asked nervously.

Eret spun on his heel just as a massive dragon pulled up sharply from it's dive, four wings flaring as it slowed and wheeled over their heads.

 _"That_ would be Cloudjumper. C’mon!” he tugged Cassian’s hand.

They jogged back up the path to the more open clifftop, where the Stormcutter had landed and shuffled his wings into a more comfortable sprawl. The dragon’s huge head swiveled to watch them, frills flicking upwards with interest as Valka rose higher on his back, bristling in her new armor. Without prompting, Cloudjumper offered a huge claw, which she hooked with her staff for a gentle ride to the ground. They'd come to a tentative peace him and Valka, but that _mask_ still left him uneasy, even if it wasn't a Bewilderbeast's frills and tusks anymore. Said mask tilted a fraction as they came to a stop, and he was quick to put himself a little further in front.

“Valka, welcome back! Hiccup’s at the forge, if you need to-”

“Who is this?” she asked coolly, though her voice was badly muffled.

 _“This_ is Cassian. We’ve been with Hiccup and Astrid all morning.” he replied.

Valka pulled her helm off slowly, still casting a cautious glance over them both, but he didn't miss her eyes drifting more than once to their joined hands. Before she could say another word, an annoyed squawk announced the arrival of Tyrian. He dropped before them, not even sparing a glance to Valka or Cloudjumper as he jabbed his snout into Cassian’s gut, scolding him with a barrage of chirps.

“We- oh we _left_ you back there! I'm so sorry my friend…” he apologized fervently, stroking the Nadder’s brow.

Eret took some satisfaction watching Valka’s brows creep towards her hairline. Cloudjumper slunk past her, eyes bright with curiosity as he sniffed, inched closer, and sniffed again. Sensing the looming intruder Tyrian whirled, tail bristling as he bundled Cassian into his wings, yanking him away so fast his hand ached.

“Tyrian, stop! It's fine!” Cassian protested, patting the dragon’s neck.

Cloudjumper reared back with an affronted snort, looking to Valka with absolute _indignity._

“Ah, one of Stormfly’s then.” she smiled wryly.

“Sure is! They ran the Kraken’s Arms just this morning” he smugly crossed his arms.

"Oh, now you're _bragging_ on my behalf?" Cassian groused.

Valka’s eyebrows shot skyward once more as Cassian flailed in his dragon’s grip. She turned, looking from him to Eret, blinking owlishly, now more confused than anything.

 _“How_ long has he been here?” she asked.

“Less than a day.” he casually examined his nails, picking at invisible dirt, “Didn’t know Hiccup had a long-lost twin all these years.”

He chuckled, but Valka was not particularly amused. She approached the new pair and slowly rattled her staff, setting off the spinners. The Nadder chirped, looking to her as she twirled the staff once, right before his nose. He shivered, spines relaxing as his skin quivered and Cassian managed to wiggle free.

“Thank you.” he grunted, fixing his clothes, “Tyrian has _quite_ the personality.”

“So it seems.” Valka replied, cool and calculating.

She watched the Nadder as he rounded Cassian to nuzzle against him, eyes falcon-keen. Eret knew she'd trust the judgement of a dragon over a human, especially Cloudjumper, who leaned over them all to sniff Cassian’s head.

“Oh, he’s beautiful…” he said, voice soft with awe.

The Stormcutter preened, frills fluttering as he tentatively reached out with a massive claw and flicked a few of the long coils of hair atop Cassian’s head. Humming, the dragon looked expectantly at Valka, who seemed to relent.

“I need to report to Hiccup. You'll want to hear this too.” she said wearily.

She trudged up the path with Cloudjumper following close behind, rightly knowing he would follow. But he didn't have a good feeling about this. It had been too long without news of trappers, and he knew better than most that meant either they'd given up and moved on, or someone was planning something big. They might need to get Cassian trained more quickly than he'd planned… the raiders were spread thin as it was.

“C’mon, let's get back…” he sighed.

***

The change in mood was sudden and unnerving in a way Cassian couldn't place. He followed Eret back with Tyrian at his heels, stomach churning from nerves. Where had Valka been, and what did her return mean? Not just for Berk, but him, and Eret. At the smithy Stormfly and Toothless made their greetings to Cloudjumper, but there were more pressing matters at hand and Valka was already inside. Would… he be welcome? Whatever was happening, it sounded like council matters and he'd only just arrived. Eret hesitated at the door, then glanced back.

“I'll have to handle this, it's probably trapper business. It's nothing you have to worry about… yet. Maybe.” he sighed, “If it's big, we might have to start your training sooner than I'd hoped. We need every fighter we can get.”

He nodded slowly, and Eret slipped through the door. The dragons were still here at least and Cloudjumper approached once more, snuffling at his hair, brushing his plated nose-ridges through the locks. The dragon suddenly bucked, left wings twitching as he arched and twisted back on himself, desperately trying to scratch at a point where the two wingskins met. He whined, even trying to reach with the broad points of his crest-

“Here, let me. Where does it ail you?” he patted the dragon’s claw.

Cloudjumper leaned down as far as he could on his underwing, raising the upper and _rolled_ into his hands as he gently scratched all the way down. The scales there were as small and fine as his pinky nail, and at a certain point on his flank a few dry bits of skin and scale flaked off. The dragon let out a long, gurgling sigh of relief and laid himself out in the sun to soak in the rays, and only now he was flat on the ground did Cassian notice that... Cloudjumper had no saddle. Where did Valka sit? And if she'd been ranging, where was her pack? That would come in time he supposed. She didn't seem too keen on strangers, unlike her companion. Cloudjumper’s tail twitched, then swept around in a great arc to corral him in. Not that he minded really, there was nowhere he needed to be yet so he could _study_. The great triple-fin on the dragon’s tail was nearly the size of a small boat _,_ but it didn't look to be as mobile as Toothless’s. Perhaps his wings offered more of that maneuverability? But he was _huge,_ he couldn't possibly be as fast. Dragons had so many mysteries… He could never tire of this. Tyrian hopped over Cloudjumper’s spiny tail, sidling close before bedding down in the grass and dragging him over by the scruff of his cowl.

“Tyrian, un _hand_ me!” he groused.

He was stuffed under the Nadder’s wing and pinned there as Tyrian settled in for a nap.


	6. Chapter 6

_“So?”_ Eret prompted, leaning back further in his chair and crossing his arms.

Valka pursed her lips and turned away from the open window, where he'd been watching _her_ watch Cassian.

“He seems… eager. I'll have to defer to Cloudjumper.” she finally said.

“Good, now for _business.”_ Hiccup rolled his map out over the table, “How’s the east?”

“Barren. Picked over. They haven't even bothered to collect the scraps.” Valka sat heavily to stare at the map, “I checked all the old haunts, and there's not so much as a sail. Further south we found a few abandoned pit traps and snares, but nothing more.”

“That's a good thing, right?” Astrid glanced around the table.

“Maybe…” Hiccup sighed, “Maybe they've left for good, maybe they're laying low somewhere we haven't looked, and they're just waiting for us to get complacent. We’ll focus our patrols south and west for now, and check north and east once a week. If something big is coming, we need all hands ready.”

He looked pointedly across the table, and continued.

“Cassian has… potential. Maybe. But we can't afford to have some hothead out on raids. He needs training, everything he can handle. We need to see what he's really made of.”

He bit back a protest, he _knew_ Cassian could be as good as any Berkian. But that wasn't for him to prove, Cassian would have to do that on his own. He nodded curtly.

“He has his own weapons, I assume he can use them. We’ll give that a try tomorrow, and there's still plenty of daylight. We can get him back in the air today.” he sighed.

“That's a start. Astrid, if you could, think you can work him into your running course?” Hiccup asked, and she nodded, “Good. Snotlout can handle strength training…”

 _“I'll_ see to his flying. At least today.” Valka added, “I think everyone has something to offer in that regard, but you most of all Astrid.”

He kept his expression guarded, but he _fumed._ Then felt guilty for it. Cassian wasn't his to keep, and it's not like they'd never see each other. He had his own work to do after all, and it was better for everyone to split up these duties in the long run. Plus… Cassian should be making other connections around Berk. This was his home now, and there were sure to be other kindred souls. Eret pushed back from the table, hoisted the new saddle over his shoulder and left the smithy, though he didn't care to see if Valka followed.

Tyrian still cradled his rider close, snoring lightly into his hair while Cloudjumper craned his neck to watch them with keen interest. Those gold eyes only brightened at the sight of the saddle, shivering frills betraying his intrigue. Eret gingerly stepped over the dragon's tail, skipping a step to catch his balance.

“Let's get him up, there's some flying to do…” he muttered, shifting the saddle.

“Something is wrong.” Cassian observed, too astutely.

“More like something’s suspiciously _not_ wrong. Trappers aren't hanging around their usual spots, they've abandoned all their kit… I'm afraid they're up to something.” he crouched, tickling the Nadder under the chin, “And we’ll need all hands fighting. Hiccup wants you in training, everything we can make time for. Riding, fighting, dragon studies… We’ll find a routine eventually, but Valka wants to see how you fly.”

Tyrian peeped, stirring from his nap enough to give him a little nuzzle, and finally let go of his rider. He tossed the saddle over the dragon as he lurched to his feet, and Cassian slowly joined them to help with the buckles.

“I think I'll make some extra padding, to go under the clasps. Don’t want you getting pressure sores now do we?” he cooed, scratching Tyrian’s flank.

“A good idea. Maybe we can get a little felt or canvas on the straps too.” Eret hummed.

“Spoiling him already? Well, that's a good sign.” Valka strolled over.

Cassian started, fumbling the girth-strap.

“You'll be fine.” he murmured, “Just listen to what she has to say.”

After a beat, Cassian nodded, tugging the harness one more time to test the fit before climbing up. Cloudjumper hoisted Valka up with a claw, slowly unraveling and spreading his wings to take off, nearly flattening the rest of them with the buffeting wind. One he got his balance back, Cassian set his feet in the stirrups and spared one last glance down with a little half smile that set his pulse fluttering. Then, Tyrian took off in pursuit and he could only watch with a slowly sinking heart as the dragons flew away. He didn't mean to drag Cassian into a _war._ Now he had to take responsibility, and make sure he was prepared. He returned to the smithy and started sorting through a barrel of Nadder scales, purple and gold…

***

God and heavens _above_ this was so much easier. The knee-rests gave him something more substantial to hold on to, and the handles were set far enough forward to brace comfortably as they rose into the sky. Tyrian followed along behind Cloudjumper, and the saddle mystery was finally solved. Valka did not sit, she _stood_ on her dragon’s back, casually leaning into the buffeting winds and shuffling side to side as they pitched and rolled. She looked back, the crinkle of her eyes betraying the grin hidden by her armor. Well, at least she wasn't _all_ grim stoicism. Tyrian fluttered closer, bucking eagerly as they banked around the crooked spire in the center of the village.

“A good start!” she shouted, “But there is much to learn! You'll need to practice in all weather, prepare for _every_ possibility. First lesson: falling!”

 _“What?!”_ he yelped.

Valka said nothing more, beckoning them onward, upward, to the high horn mountain of the main island. Higher and higher they went, until Valka bid Cloudjumper to level out with... he couldn't see, a shake of the staff, a gesture?

“Now, jump! You must learn how to save yourself if you fall from the saddle.” she ordered, “We will be with you!”

Everything seemed to be some sort of _test_ today, and he was starting to get a little bitter about it. But he nodded once, carefully extracting his feet from the stirrups. Now… how did one jump off a dragon. Over the back maybe? He tucked his cowl in more tightly, drew his legs up under him, planted his feet… Tyrian squawked in confusion, wobbling under all his unfamiliar movements.

“I trust you my friend. I am in your care.” he patted Tyrian’s shoulder. 

And he jumped, throwing himself sideways to avoid the Nadder’s tail.

Regret hit immediately. He tumbled in the wind and struggled to right himself with every twist and turn as his hands, feet, even his clothes fought the fall. Finally, he found his balance with arms spread wide, but the sky still beat the breath from his lungs and nearly blinded him. Tyrian fell into place at his right- no, left now, but too high to reach. He lunged anyway and went spinning again, then had to flail to find that precarious balance with his heart in his throat. The trees were looming larger as he swiped at the saddle, only just snagging the pommel. With a desperate burst of strength he hauled closer, barely getting his legs over Tyrian’s back before they pulled up hard and sharp. He gasped for breath, and almost snapped when Valka and Cloudjumper fell in beside them.

 _“Sloppy.”_ she scolded, “Again!”

Cassian only let himself glower at her back.

The second jump wasn't much better, but on the third he found falling head-first to be more stable, he could control the spin at least. By the fifth fall, fear had left him and all that remained was the thrill. Tyrian had likewise gained a better sense of where the new saddle was and where he needed to be, so by the seventh catch, Valka was satisfied. _Finally,_ he thought. But they weren’t going home, instead angling into a slow, easy glide to the far side of the island as the sun started its trek towards the sea. Cloudjumper dropped his tail to slow a fraction more, just enough for the dragons to fly wing to wing. At least _he_ looked happy.

“There is nothing more important than communication, so you must build your skills together. But consistency is key! Don't mix your signals, and take on one task at a time!” Valka went on, “Steering is the very foundation-”

Yes, they could manage _that_ thank you very much. He tuned her out, at least until they passed beyond the cliffs and dove lower, to another forest of sea stacks. These were bigger, but more widely spread, a _game_ compared to the Kraken’s Arms. Cloudjumper forged ahead, dropping so low his wingtips sliced the waves through the center of a great stone arch, and Valka waved for them to follow. Cassian rolled his eyes, but did as he was told. Couldn't afford to ruffle any feathers, especially not on someone so close to the chief, on the first full day. He could complain later.

But this really was nothing compared to the Kraken, he hardly had to direct Tyrian at all. Cloudjumper was a little harder-pressed with his huge wings, he barely had the room to flap or turn. Impatience finally won over sense, and he leaned right at the next crevasse. Tyrian cut hard, and Cassian would be his eyes. They shot ahead at _their_ pace, weaving between the stones with ease until they burst back out into open air. Now, where were the other two... He scanned the sea as they banked left, then a vast shadow brought his head snapping up. Cloudjumper fell at them, wings wide and talons out for an eagle's strike. Seven _hells_ he let this harpy lead them away from any help! Instinct took over, quicker than lightning and he dug his heel into Tyrian’s side, hauling right on the pommel. The dragon dropped, tumbling over his wing so neatly he could watch Cloudjumper’s claws close on the empty air where his head had been. They leveled quickly, and Cassian whipped around like a hawk to _snarl-_

“If you wanted a new lesson, you could have just said so! How then, will you fight a bigger and stronger enemy?” Valka goaded as her mount wheeled about hard.

So, _that_ was her game. He sneered, urging Tyrian back into the sea stacks with the press of his knees. He could _feel_ Cloudjumper behind them like a wall of wind, but he'd seen that dragon struggle in here, and here he could turn the tides in their favor. They wove deeper into the stones and shimmied through the narrowest gap he could find, they had to get out of sight. Down was death, Cloudjumper could force them there easily with his size alone. _They_ needed to climb above. After rounding another corner, he hauled back on the pommel and Tyrian shot straight up, nearly to the peak of the stones where he caught the flicker of a wing in the distance. They would have to swoop in where those two were _going_ to be, not where they were, time to catch up _._ Tyrian wove onward, as close to parallel as they could manage until they surged ahead, angled closer, and then he pulled over hard. They dove, tucking in tight to cut across Cloudjumper’s path and he aimed right for Valka. Grinning fiercely, he urged Tyrian to flip again and, he would never know how, snatched the staff right out of her hands mid-roll. They righted, slipped into the next crevasse, and _now_ they would be getting themselves back to Berk. Tyrian wove hard, sprinting to the mainland when they broke from the stacks and he couldn't be bothered to check their tail. Faster, _faster_ he urged, laying low and awkwardly holding the staff along the length of the saddle. They rounded the great mountain and Berk’s narrow spire loomed, so tantalizingly close. He snuck a glance up, back, all around, and somehow Cloudjumper was nowhere in sight. That... was too easy. The mountain passes were ahead, that would be the perfect spot for an ambush from below. No, he wouldn't risk it. He steered Tyrian wide, over the forest that was too dense for the copper dragon and wouldn't you know it, there came Cloudjumper. He rose in pursuit from a ravine not far from where they would've crossed, but they still had a lead. The dragons flew hard, wings pounding, but it was Tyrian who passed the fringes of the village first. _Victory._ Cassian eased back, giving his Nadder a pat between the wings.

They landed gently before the smithy where Tyrian crouched, bedding into the grass as he gasped for breath. Cassian dismounted with the stolen staff, stumbling around to give his dragon a good hard scratch. A _careful_ scratch, didn’t need him dropping again. Cloudjumper was rolling in much more slowly so in a streak of petty vengeance, Cassian turned on his heel to waltz into the smithy. If Valka wanted her stick back she could come _get_ it. Gobber, Eret, and Hiccup were all still hard at work, but that slowed to a stop when they looked up one by one.

“Why do you have Mom’s staff?” Hiccup asked slowly.

Valka was his _mother?_ That… explained a few things.

“Ah. I see flying through rocks at breakneck speed is a _family_ tradition.” he muttered.

Hiccup squinted, first at him then back at the door, and Eret's frown deepened. Cassian ignored the shadow looming behind him and wandered further inside to peer at everyone’s work, until the staff was snatched from his hand. He half turned, looking at Valka coolly from the corner of his eye, one brow rising as she returned to Hiccup and his maps at the table.

“I _like_ him.” he just barely heard her whisper.

“Now, it's just the first stages but have a look-see.” Gobber nudged him.

The smith held out the iron he was working, still red-hot from the fire. It was obviously the shaping tongs, with it's narrow legs and bowed hinge. It was a little rough of course, but it was the right size and shape.

“It is good! Once it's done the inside edges will need to be quite smooth, so they don't snag or score the glass. A good file and some polishing is usually enough.” he said.

“Ah, I _thought_ so. All in good time!” Gobber chuckled.

The others had been murmuring in the corner, masked by the roar of the forge, but the sudden shriek of wood over stone made him flinch. Eret came to him, fast and fuming but he stopped, steeling himself with a deep breath. 

“Come on, you still need to unpack. You must be cold after all that _flying.”_ he said pointedly over his shoulder, “And dinner'll be ready soon.”

“Eret, what-” he hissed, but he let himself be steered outside.

They stumbled past Tyrian, still fast asleep, and the pace kept up all the way back to Eret’s home. Cassian could _feel_ him seething, stony-faced and silent right up until the door closed behind them. Only then did Eret let out a shuddering sigh.

“Cassian, _Gods_ I- I've dragged you into a war _._ This wasn't what I wanted, I swear I _-_ I thought this would be over by now, that everything would be _fine_ and now its aiming to get worse-” 

His breath hitched, so quietly Cassian almost missed it and his heart broke. He shucked off his mantle and tossed it aside, wrapping what little of himself there was around Eret, squeezing tight with all the strength he had left. Slowly, Eret hugged him back, sniffling miserably.

“I did not make this choice lightly Eret. If your home is under threat I will defend it to my last breath, because _this_ is something worth protecting. It won't be easy, and I'll probably be thrown at a lot more rocks, but I _want_ to do this. For them, and for you.” he murmured.

Eret’s breath hitched again, harder this time and a word or two almost escaped, but he said nothing.

 _“This_ is what I was always meant to do, I know it. It will take work… But out there, there was a _feeling,_ like I just knew what needed to be done. I'm sure she was going easy on me, but if I can give Valka a challenge, who knows?”

Eret still said nothing, just tried to control his shuddering breaths and Cassian held him, _finally_ warming again. He really did need a better way to keep from freezing up there… A proper jacket maybe. Later though, for now he had Eret to worry about.

“They won't scare me away.” he continued, “I want to be a part of this, whatever may come. Krakens, trappers, gods or men… it makes no difference. I'll rout them all.”

Eret finally huffed a laugh, “That’s some claim. Why don't we _start_ with men.”

“I have a sword.” he said simply.

 _“Having_ a sword is only half the problem, you need to be able to fight.” Eret countered.

“I can fight well enough…”

“There's well enough, and there's _well._ It only takes one mistake for ‘enough’ to fail you. We need to be _better.”_ Eret sighed, idly stroking his back, fingertips catching on the knobs of his spine.

He hummed in agreement, turning a little to tuck under Eret’s chin. The pulse under him, all around him _thundered_ and he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own heartbeat, in near-perfect sync. It was... incredible. Surreal even, new and _thrilling_.

“You're still freezing… We’ll have to see about fixing that, it won't be getting too much warmer.” Eret said, more to himself.

“I would like that, very much.” he chuffed a laugh, and Eret shivered in turn.

“I did manage to get a chest for your things. We’ll see if anyone has a coat we can borrow, just to find a fit that suits you.” Eret continued quickly.

“I do have to _look_ the part of a dragon rider now don't I? Never had much for clothes, so it won't be hard to change that.” Cassian finally took a step back, a smile tugging at his mouth, “Imagine, a coat covered in dragon scales, with a thick fur collar…”

He was only joking, but Eret’s brows crept up as he considered it, eventually nodding.

“Not a bad idea. Blue and purple scales on black wool, lined with fleece, maybe some white rabbit fur for a collar… I can show you how to drill scales tomorrow. It's a bit tedious, but fine for passing a storm, or winter. That's how _this_ came about.” he gestured to his scale vest.

Oh, of course. He should've picked up on that before.

“These… don't look like they're from any of the dragons I've seen. _Yet_ anyway.” Cassian said, idly running his fingers over a few bronze scales.

“A Timberjack stopped by in the thick of a moult last autumn, made quite a mess of the woods before we helped it scrub down.” that finally got a real laugh out of him.

“Those are the large ones, yes?” Cassian finally, reluctantly, let go. There were things to do…

“Yeah, they're quite sweet. Calm, quiet… unless they have an _itch_ anyway.”

He grabbed his bag from beside the hearth, finally bringing it upstairs to pack it away. A new chest was waiting, right next to Eret’s at the foot of the bed and something about that… it made his heart flutter. But- put things away, that was the task. He set his lute and blankets aside, and re-folded what he had for clothing. Some socks, smallclothes, two more tunics and another set of threadbare clothing, his spare mantle… The other set of boots could go by the door, no need for them up here. There was plenty of room left over for his journal and trinkets. Not much at all really… his whole life could fit in a single pack. Before he could really contemplate that further, a heavy, familiar weight dropped around his shoulders. He smiled, gathering the cloak closer and turned his face into the silvered fur, breathing deep before fastening the straps behind his back.

“Dinner'll be ready soon. We eat in the Great Hall during summer, spring… whenever the snow isn't too deep really. Breakfast is more of a fend-for-yourself meal. Speaking of, I do need to refill the pantry…” Eret explained as he jerked a comb through his hair.

“Wait- stop that, you'll ruin it! Let _me._ Here, sit…” he huffed, “So damn tall.”

Eret rolled his eyes, but handed the comb over and dropped onto the bed. Cassian slid behind him, pulling his long hair back and carding his fingers through, maybe a little more than was necessary. He combed the ends first, working higher and higher, until it ran through smooth and Eret’s hair shone. He'd never seen its like before, smooth as silk and black as night, falling a measure past Eret's shoulders now that it was unbound. Oh, what would it feel like to _really_ dig his fingers in, tug and scratch and caress-

Cassian swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and kept brushing a little longer, _just_ in case.

“Enjoying yourself?” Eret chuckled, “Here, tie it back would you?”

He passed a curled leather cord over his shoulder and Cassian pouted, but did as was asked. It should be a _crime_ to bind such beauty back. Eret stood once he finished, sparing a glance at the small chest and there he paused.

“Why don't you bring that along?” he gestured to the lute, “Music should win everyone over. Folks around here get bored of the same old songs.”

Not a bad idea, he supposed. He slung the lute over his shoulder by it's simple strap, made from an old broken belt, many times mended. Eret stopped to feed a little more wood to the fire to keep it smoldering and followed him out, closing the door behind himself. Many Berkians seemed to have the same idea, so they melted into the crowds flowing uphill to the crooked spire. There were still curious eyes watching from all sides, but he ignored them. He was _hungry,_ they could wait for a conversation if they wanted one that badly.

The double doors of the hall loomed large, built right into the face of the rock and they were surrounded by carvings of men and dragons alike. He'd heard stories as a child, of mountain castles that had to be just like this... But one statue loomed larger than the rest and looked newer, a great broad viking with a flowing beard and horned helmet. That _must_ be someone important. It was so different in style and size from the rest, even the carvings in the bay... but he could ask about that later. Past those huge doors, the hall was filled with long tables and benches around a great hearth-pit in the center, where all the food was waiting. They took a place in line, and he let his eyes wander further. Tapestries hung everywhere, from beams and walls and mighty columns, depicting what else: dragons. But not just _any_ dragons. There was one of Hiccup and Toothless, Astrid and Stormfly, several other pairs he couldn't name, and one, bigger than the rest, with that big-bearded viking and-

“Is that _Skullcrusher?”_ he asked, pointing when Eret shot him a bewildered look.

“Oh. Yeah, that's him, and his first rider. Stoick the Vast, the last chief of Berk and… Hiccup’s father.” Eret said softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

He nodded silently. If Eret only came to Berk shortly after they met, and now had the chief’s old dragon… Stoick’s death must have been quite recent. This was clearly a beloved leader, he'd best tread carefully.

“It seems he was a great chief.” he said.

“Aye, he was. One of the greatest.” Gobber said solemnly, strolling in behind them.

“Had _quite_ the arm on him too.” Eret chuckled weakly, “Knocked me flat without a thought on our first meeting. Then _you_ hit me on the head with a rock _.”_

 _“Mace!”_ Gobber snapped.

“Made out of a _rock._ And then you parked Grump on me!”

“All’s fair in love and _war,_ son of Eret.” the smith said, smugly crossing his arms.

Eret rolled his eyes and moved up in line, while he politely hid a smile. They took their helping of soup and bread once they were able and moved on through the crowd to find a seat. Astrid waved them over from nearer the center of the hall, so there Eret went and he followed.

“So, the short fella with the black hair is Snotlout-” Eret leaned closer to say, “The twins are Tuffnut and _Ruffnut,_ and the larger gentleman with the mustache is Fishlegs. I apologize in advance for the behavior of the first three.”

"Oh. My father had a twin, his brother..." he found himself saying. He hadn't remembered his uncle in a long while.

For a moment Eret had that look again, like he wanted to ask and was so ready to hear more, but a raucous crow's laugh cut that short. Eret sighed through his nose, long and beleaguered, and he steeled himself. _These_ were the rest of the riders from the tapestries, minus the dragons of course, and they were… quite loud. Hiccup and Astrid made room around themselves, scooting together so he could sit at Hiccup’s left, and Eret off Astrid’s right. The bickering across the table came to a stop as the four other riders stated openly, blinking like stunned owls.

“Wow.” the thin woman drawled, “Your skin is just… _like_ that?”

 _“Ruffnut-”_ Hiccup said slowly, as a warning.

“Does it _hurt?”_

Her twin batted her in the forehead, “No, _bad_ Ruffnut! Down girl!”

She hissed, and punched Tuffnut in the arm.

Hiccup, Astrid and Eret heaved equally exasperated sighs, casting silent prayers to the rafters no doubt. He just stared in confusion. Why should his skin hurt?

“Don't mind Ruffnut. Sometimes people forget their _manners.”_ Hiccup muttered.

“Uh… no offence taken, I suppose.” he replied.

He ate slowly, glad for a hot meal by a proper _big_ fire, and luckily the others were content to do the same. For now at least. Berkian fare was simple it seemed, no spices, barely any salt and _no garlic_ which should frankly be a crime, but it was hearty enough to choke down. He'd best get used to it. At least the bread was good, especially for soaking up the leftover broth. A pitcher of ale made the rounds and he was glad for a drink, but not _too_ much. He may have made compromises in his travels, but he still tried to avoid getting properly drunk _._ With the food now finished, curious eyes returned, prying shamelessly. No wonder Eret apologized beforehand.

“You didn't pack for the _cold_ did you?” Snotlout snarked. Of all the observations to make...

“Not for _flying_ in the cold, no. I have what I have.” he replied with a shrug.

“Well, it's a good thing you're in the presence of the _best_ tailor to ever grace Berk!” Snotlout hopped up on the bench to flex his arms, _“Someone_ has to keep you from freezing to death, that raggedy cloak won't cut it!”

“Hey!” Eret snapped.

“What? It _won't._ I need a test dummy for my new riding coat anyway.”

Eret crossed his arms with an affronted huff, glaring Snotlout down.

“So if you've come all this way, have you seen any other dragons?” Fishlegs cut in.

 _Finally,_ a decent question.

“Only one, last year as I was crossing the mountains in Saxony. It was colorful, like a Nadder, four legs, narrow wings, a long tail… It was too far away to see much more I'm afraid.” he frowned, “Dragons are stories to most, expensive curiosities to a few I'm sure, and if there are any left… They've probably scattered to the most remote mountains and caves, wherever they can carve a tiny space for themselves. There are so few wild places left, there's are just too many cities, farms… Not like here.”

Fishlegs drooped, even his mustache went limp with dejection.

“That doesn't surprise me…” Hiccup sighed, “Seems to be the way things end when humans and dragons get too close. Maybe someday we…”

He stopped, minutely shaking his head as Cassian stared.

“We can't spare the riders for an expedition of that scale, not now. If we can drive the trappers off, maybe. One day. There's plenty of space here, and without threats on all sides they could spread out again, as far as they wanted.”

He nodded slowly, trying to mask the thrill the possibility put in him. Just _once_ more he would like to see his home, for his sister if nothing else. He could dwell on that later, he had other duties here and now. Eret caught his eye around Astrid’s back, gesturing quickly to the lute where it leaned against the bench. Ah, right. There wasn't really any room to play sitting like this, so he turned about on the bench, setting the lute in his lap to tune the strings. All the flying probably hadn't done it any favors… He could wax it later, just to be safe. The first tentative plucks brought nearby conversations to a stop, and the silence spread as he strummed a few more notes. It all put a nervous shake in his fingers as his stomach churned, he could _feel_ all the eyes training on him. He snuck a glance left and found Eret watching with rapt focus, and that… that was all that mattered. No love songs for now, not with a crowd this big, but maybe one of those dancing tunes from home…

“I'll have to beg your pardon, it won't sound quite the same with just one instrument.” he said with a shy chuckle.

But he started to really play, a rippling, thrumming rhythm that rung clear in the high rafters. That flowed into higher, plucky, rapid-fire notes, a simple melody broken by a quick full-strum of the strings. Some in the hall caught the beat quickly and clapped along, and _that_ put his heart in his throat. Somewhere, another lute strummed along, just the same simple chord over and over in time with everyone else, and it felt like _home._

***

Eret was half-drunk by the time he managed to drag Cassian home, likewise off-kilter and giggling, almost-singing something in that other language. Beautiful it was, even if Cassian's Norse was miles better his native tongue still came through so richly, curling and purring in unfamiliar ways that put a flutter in his heart.

“Still won't tell me what that one means, will you?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“No!” Cassian chimed, “Havn’ trans- tr- _fixed_ it yet. Wouldn't make sense.”

He could only shake his head. He'd figured as much of course, language was a tricky thing and Cassian spoke at least _three_ of them, maybe? But the need to _know_ still itched under his skin. That was the very first song Cassian had played for him, a love song that left half of Berk teary-eyed without understanding a single word and him even _weaker_ in the knees. He should've assumed Cass could sing, but he never could've prepared himself for that _voice,_ deep and sweet as summer mead...

He shouldered the door open and pulled Cassian inside one limb at a time, all the way to the hearth. Still had to see to the fire after all, and he stirred the embers with a little more wood while Cassian hung off the edge of the stairs, still singing. At least he was a _happy_ drunk.

“Don't fall asleep on me now, get ready properly.” he chuckled.

Cassian groaned, only moving when jabbed and prodded around and up the stairs to the loft. He fumbled with the straps of the cloak until Eret pulled the clasp open for him, hanging it up on a hook on the wall and shrugging out of his own vest.

“So, you'll be going out with Astrid first thing in the morning, probably running her course. Then weapons training with me, flying with Valka, Snotlout has something planned for the end of the day I'm sure. We’ll have some time in the afternoon to start working on firescale, maybe that coat-”

By the time he turned around, Cassian had already tucked into the bedroll on the floor and fallen asleep. Heart fluttering, he knelt to fix the pillow under his head and absently brushed away the stray coils of hair that had fallen over his eyes. _Gods_ he was a vision, hawkish and fierce but so _warm,_ even sleep couldn't dull the soft smile that tugged at his lips. Reluctantly, he got himself into bed. Tomorrow would be a long day...

Eret woke with the sun to find Cassian had kicked himself halfway out of the bedroll in the night and sprawled all over the floor. Well then… must've been some dream. He threw the blankets back and knelt at Cassian’s side, scooping him up- _effortlessly_. Gods he weighed almost nothing _,_ every knob of his backbone and hips stood out like iron under his skin. No _wonder_ he was always so cold. His heart ached something fierce as he tucked Cassian into bed, pulling the blankets high around his chin. Their newest rider needed all the rest he could get.

With leaden steps Eret returned to the hearth to stoke the fire, fill the kettle and examine the pantry. There were enough oats for a meal at least, plus a little salt and honey… Cassian had to eat something, and this would have to do. He left the porridge to cook and washed his face, fixed his hair, little things to kill the time while the water boiled and Cassian slept on. But Astrid was bound to come knocking sooner or later, he should be getting ready. Their future chieftess waited for no one, no matter how green. Though she'd assured him they would start slow, he didn't exactly put much faith in a racer's judgement of speed.

After a time the food was almost done and he returned to the loft to wake Cassian up, though he needn't have bothered. Cassian stirred, stretched, and turned deeper into the pillow with a drawn-out groan that- Oh, oh that sound _stirred_ things in him, brought up thoughts and musings he'd tried to bury deep. He rushed to the window and threw open the shutters, shivering as the cool breeze hit. He’d never _felt_ like that in all those years sailing, never desired anyone before all- whatever this was. Would be? He leaned on the sill and took a deep breath of bracing air, until the fire in his blood cooled and he could safely face the sleeping man again. He returned to the bed and knelt, gently cupping Cassian’s jaw, smoothing a thumb over his cheekbone. He stirred, head lifting minutely as one eye cracked open, once, twice, three times before he managed to keep it that way. A small, sleepy smile tugged at his lips as he turned under Eret’s hand and pressed a kiss to his palm, warm and lingering. The strangled sound of embarrassment that left his throat was appalling, his face _burned,_ but Cassian didn't seem to notice as he roused, stretched again, and struggled up.

He quickly cleared his throat, “Breakfast is ready, Astrid won't be long.”

Cassian just nodded, groaning as he scrubbed the sleep from his face. He didn't even realize what he'd done, but that touch- that _kiss_ may as well have been a brand the way his palm still burned. But, there were things to do, _things to do_ he reminded himself. He returned to the hearth to dish out the porridge, then filled the kettle again to clean it. 

“Here, eat up. And I wouldn’t dress too warm, I'm sure Astrid'll have you running all over the island.” he sighed, handing over a bowl.

“Thank you.” Cassian said, voice still rough with sleep.

The deep rumble _curled_ in his ears, setting a shiver up his spine, hot and cold all at once. For just a moment, he regretted ever suggesting they take things slow. But only a moment. He knew it would be for the best, in the long run. He wanted there to _be_ a long run- he shook his head. That was a little too much thinking this early in the morning. He ate quickly, nearly scalding his mouth, then busied himself cleaning while Cassian got ready. No sooner had he laced his boots, than a knock rang out at the door. Eret answered, and Astrid barged right in.

“Oh good, you're ready. Let's get going then, just a jog today. We’ll have to work up to the course, but I'll show you the whole thing.” she said, stretching her arms.

“I'll meet you at the arena after, don't worry about the weapons.” he added.

Cassian nodded, forcing himself to his feet to follow Astrid out, down the lane and out of sight. An unwelcome weight settled in his bones, lonely and unfamiliar. He knew Cassian had things that needed doing, they couldn't stay glued together but… he missed him already. With a sigh, he finished his cleaning and gathered those weapons like he promised. The shield was rough, verging on too-small and the short-sword was badly notched. The bow seemed fine at least, springy and well-oiled with a sound string, though there weren't any arrows. He should stop by the smithy first, see if there was anything to be done for that sword...


	7. Chapter 7

Astrid led him through the village, around the crooked spire-mountain to a bridge that connected the smaller island to it's larger neighbor. It was a rickety old thing that swayed terribly, but he managed to keep up with his teacher’s fearless pace.

  
“This won't take long.” Astrid assured, “The path goes around the obstacles too. Once you've built up a little more endurance we’ll run it for real.”

  
Cassian almost trusted her as he bit back a shiver. He missed his mantle, but if they were going to run all over creation he would warm up soon enough. Astrid’s brisk walk shifted to a light jog and he followed her lead, falling into step at her side.

  
“Back straight, head up! And don't swing your arms so much!” she instructed.

  
He tried, he really did, but it was hard work fighting the urge to watch the ground ahead of him. All too soon his breaths came hard and harsh, but he pushed onward. Winter had left him weak, sitting inside for months to wait out the cold and wind… embarrassing, absolutely _humiliating_ , especially compared to when Eret saw him last. The defenders of the Shetlands hadn't called him 'Shadow' for his skin after all, they weren't _that_ crass, secluded though they were. He would just have to work himself ragged to get back into fighting form. Astrid's trail wound through woods long picked over for timber, but it was sparse with newer growth, young trees only a few years old. She must've this one track clear, though ferns and wildberry bushes grew thick on the fringes, even the odd mushroom popped through. The first obstacle emerged, simply a log laid lengthwise on the ground, to balance along most likely. Next were a succession of beams raised on posts to climb over and under, then a shallow trench to jump past, then a much longer trench with a rope to swing over. He was starting to see the point, and his muscles already screamed at the prospect of navigating all of this. They ran by more and more; steps to climb, ropes to scale, nets to swing across or belly-crawl under, at least 30 structures by his count. The loop was nearly done by then, and thank heaven! His throat ached and stars swam in his vision when the bridge was finally in view, it may as well have been miles later, too far...

  
“This way, to the ring.” Astrid said, barely winded at all.

  
And he almost hated her for it. But, she did slow down to an easy walk, if only for the sake of the bridge. His breath still came ragged and he was soaked in sweat despite the cold… and there was yet more to do. But he didn't like the cast of the sky, the sickly iron-green-grey of the low and petulant clouds. Astrid brushed off his concern, for now at least. The road to the arena took them by the path to the docks and onward to yet another bridge, a little sturdier than the first. By the time they crossed to the barren stone he could breathe properly, but his legs were still only so much jelly and the wind bit at him like a wolf. The arena was a strange structure, at first looking like no more than a high ringed fence in a natural amphitheater on the cliffs. As they approached however, the pit the fence surrounded revealed itself, deep and cold and barren.

  
“The ramp in is over there.” Astrid waved off to the right, “And don't let him baby you, you won't learn anything if you don't give 100%.”

  
He just nodded, masking a sigh and Astrid left him there. With the peace and quiet he took the opportunity to stretch his aching legs, and just _sit_ for a moment on a stone to let his heartbeat slow before making the final push to enter the ring. There was something primally foreboding about the place... maybe the utter lack of greenery, or the scorched stone, or the chain web spanning the top of the fence, suspended from the cliffs above. A great latticed door of beams as thick as his thigh hung over the sloping entrance, suspended by huge chains on barrel-winches, and another such gate waited inside where the tunnel ended. What the hell were they using this for? The ring opened wide as he left the tunnel, and whatever they used to do, it was clear people trained here now. Stick-and-straw targets were scattered all around, and weapons of every sort hung on racks against the walls. But beyond all of that, unnervingly huge doors were set around the perimeter, and the closest was open enough to see more equipment stored inside the fire-stained cave. The bars on those doors looked big enough to hold back a _dragon_. He shook his head, looking around a little more. There was no sign of Eret yet, so he sat himself down on a nearby crate. He wouldn't turn down more time to rest.

  
Just when the cold was nearly too much, a familiar rumbling growl echoed through the pit. Skullcrusher swooped over the chain net, turning to land in front of the ramp to let his rider down. Rapid footsteps approached and Cassian rose to meet him, heart in his throat.

“Sorry!” Eret panted, “Sorry, I got caught up at the forge-”

  
He left the weapons on a chest, and swept in to wrap Cassian's black mantle around his shoulders. Had Eret gone back for it? He pulled the cloth closer, smiling-

  
“I tried to fix your sword, it wasn't in the best shape I'm afraid. Gobber says there's a crack, so I don't know if it's salvageable. I got the closest match we had.” Eret sighed, "Sorry."

  
“If it's not safe, it's not safe. I'll get over it." he shrugged, "And it was cheap, so I'm not surprised.” 

  
“Well, let's start with archery, get warmed up again. You can use that bale for a target.” Eret pointed to a block of molding hay in the center of the court.

  
With a slow nod, he retrieved his bow, strung it carefully, then took a handful of arrows from a chest. He could hit the broadside of a barn, that much was sure, but who knew what Eret had planned. He half-drew the string a few times to ease the bow then nocked an arrow, aimed and fired. The missile sang and sank to the fletching in the damp straw, well enough within the target ring.

  
“Good! I mean... a little room for improvement, but good. Here-”

  
Eret stepped in close, nudging his hand and arms as he fit another arrow to the string.

  
“A little higher. There should be one straight line between the arrowhead and your elbow, pivot from there to aim. And hold the string with just your fingertips, you'll wear your joints out like that. A touch higher… Now loose!” he took a quick step back.

  
Cassian let the string pull free and the arrow sunk home so nearly dead-center, but the next shot struck a little too high. He frowned, almost a pout-

  
“Eh, we can practice that later. We fight with swords most times anyway. Let's start with the wooden ones.” Eret left him to go digging through a barrel.

  
“I think you may find my archery superior. I never got any proper training with a sword.” he admitted, kicking a pebble.

  
“That may be for the best, un-learning bad form is harder than starting from fresh.” Eret shrugged.

  
He unstrung his bow and returned it to the crate with the rest of his things, then took the wooden sword handed to him.

  
“Where to start, where to start…” Eret muttered, tapping another sword over his shoulders.

  
He paced back and forth, lips pursed, and finally turned to face him.

  
“Just come at me.” he ordered, twirling his weapon. Show off.

  
“Just, attack?” Cassian said, baffled.

  
“Yup. Do whatever feels natural.” Eret motioned for action, inviting him in.

  
He shifted his grip on the wooden sword. There wasn't quite room for both hands to hold it, but one-handed didn't feel right either. Eret watched with hawkish focus, coiled like a cat ready to pounce, and that proved to be… distracting. So, he swung low, in a wide arc at Eret’s side-

  
The blow was easily knocked away with barely a flick of the wrist. Another twist, a step he barely saw, and the tip of the sword came to a stop at the soft underside of his chin, forcing his head up. He swallowed hard, eyes flicking to Eret’s.

  
“ _Dead_. Too slow, you show where you're aiming clear as day. Again!” he ordered.

  
He was ‘killed’ another dozen times before Eret was satisfied with what he'd seen, but he returned to pensive pacing.

  
“I don't think this suits you.” he finally said, waving with his stick, “You're small, quick on your feet… Trying for brute force, smashing swords, that’s going to put you against steep odds. No, we have to find something that fits your strengths…”

  
Eret returned to the weapons cache, and he tried not to take the remark personally. There was truth of course, chances were anyone he came up against would outweigh him by a wide margin. Trying to meet them head-on anyway was foolish, there had to be a better way... and who better than a sword master to find it? Eret startled him with a muffled shout of satisfaction and returned with two wood swords, more like long knives really.

  
“Let's try these. You can just chuck that back over there. Now, flip your grip, the other way, yeah.”

  
It was strange, holding the weapons backwards, he couldn't stab or slash forward like this. But something about it made him carry his weight forward on his toes, hunch a little lower, raise his arms like a boxer to strike- _Oh_.

  
“Now, try again.” Eret said, watching intently.

  
He lunged, catching Eret’s reactive swing and that _feeling_ took over again, same as flying, something so primal and instinctive he couldn't name it. They moved, parrying blow after blow, gaining and giving ground in turns until he stumbled and found a sword at his throat again. He huffed, but an eager spark had risen in Eret’s eyes.

  
“ _That's_ better! Now, try not to cross your steps, you'll trip up that way. And let's get in the practice of blocking with the flat of your blade, that's what tore your old sword to bits.”

  
They sparred and drilled through the morning until he was breathless and sweaty once more, and Eret finally called an end to practice. He passed over a waterskin and Cassian drank deeply from it, glad for something to wet his throat since his mouth had long since turned to leather. With that distraction, the apple tossed his way a moment later as he lowered the skin almost hit him in the jaw.

  
“Sorry!” Eret spluttered, and quickly cleared his throat, “Valka should be by shortly, you're just going to run drills around the island today. And, I'll bring your things back. If you meet me at the smithy after, we can get you some lunch and start working on-”

  
Two dragons called out from above, wheeling briefly over the cage before joining Skullcrusher by the entrance. Tyrian sprinted ahead, down through the tunnel and didn't slow one bit, nearly bowling him right over.

  
“Yes, I missed you too!” Cassian laughed, grappling the dragon’s head, “Easy, let me eat a little before we go.”

  
“While he’s here, watch this.” Eret grabbed an old shield, and whistled to the Nadder.

  
Tyrian chirped, watching with bright curiosity as Eret held the shield out, and his pupils narrowed to slits as the shield slowly bobbed, then shot up as it was heaved in one great pull. Tyrian whirled, flicking his tail in a great arc and he ducked reflexively as something whistled over his head. The shield fell with a clatter, studded all over with purple-and-gold quills. The Nadder clucked, deep and satisfied as he ambled over and nosed the shield closer, like a prize.

  
“Well, isn't that something…” he muttered.

  
He stooped to pry a quill loose, but found it stuck fast and firm in the wood. Planting a foot in the middle he tugged again, then hauled back and only then did the quill pop out. It was longer than his whole hand and needle sharp, but surprisingly light for it's size. These could be drilled, right? No sense letting them go to waste. He pulled the quills one by one and set them with his bow, and finally ate his apple. It was crisp and wondrously sweet-tart, doing more to slake his thirst that the water. Tyrian disposed of the core for him with one snap of his jaws.

  
“Best not keep Valka waiting…” he sighed.

  
“Yeah… Stay safe up there, don't-” Eret stumbled on his words, “Don't do anything stupid.”

  
“I won't.” he stole Eret’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

  
That seemed to be enough reassurance. With great reluctance, he left with his Nadder trotting along behind him. The skies had only soured further and the wind rose higher, sharper… not what he would call flying weather. But, Valka _did_ say he had to be prepared for anything. Cloudjumper took the time to sprawl out over the stone court, stretching his great wings as Valka stood by Skullcrusher, free of her strange armor. She gently scratched the Rumblehorn’s jaw, a strained smile tugging at her lips. Right… the Rumblehorn had been her husband’s dragon once, and she didn't seem terribly fond of Eret. Maybe because he was once a trapper? Tyrian chirped, giving himself a shake and Valka snapped to attention, absently twirling her staff.

  
“Ah, there you are. Come, there's a storm brewing.” she grinned, scanning the sky.

  
Cassian stopped by Skullcrusher for a moment to greet him, then started the long climb into Tyrian’s saddle. Or he would've, until something hooked his cowl and dragged him the few feet back down. He stumbled as he lost his balance, tugging the cloth away from his throat where it threatened to strangle him, and it took a mighty effort not to snap at Valka when she chuckled.

  
“You'll be riding with Cloudjumper this time.” she handed her staff over, “Battle on dragonback can be unpredictable, you must be able to ride any dragon with or without a saddle if the two of you are separated.”

  
Tyrian warbled in confusion as Valka hopped onto his back, but he found a little smug satisfaction when she struggled to fit comfortably. Looks like she could take a little of her own advice, he thought as he joined Cloudjumper, testing the weight of the staff. It was a strange contraption, the metal disks rattled as they spun in their sockets and the sound roused Cloudjumper from his nap. The dragon looked between him and Valka, crooning as if to ask her about the change, but with a tilt of her head, he accepted. He offered a claw, so he hooked it with the borrowed staff, stepping onto the other end to ride up as Valka had done. He had to swing a little to reach Cloudjumper’s broad shoulders and he stumbled when the dragon shifted under his feet, the huge haunches of muscle heaving like the sea. He dropped to one knee and inched back to cling to one of Cloudjumper’s towering back-spines, just in time for both dragons to take off over the cliff and down to the ocean. The wind buffeted them hard, forcing the dragons to roll and twist and _him_ to hold on for dear life. The waves roiled below as they leveled out, surging with white-caps that left him tasting salt even a hundred feet up. But dragons filled the sea too, strange two-headed beasts with wide heavy wings like a manta, and smaller shimmering serpents with fins like a fish and long, thin wings. Even a Scauldron, a different one he noted, craned it's neck above the surf. Tyrian pulled up beside them, tossing his head in annoyance as Valka shifted in the saddle. As much as he wanted to show her up, he didn't dare stand in winds this wild.

  
“We’ll just make a few laps of the island!” Valka shouted, “Get you more familiar!”

  
Cassian nodded, and reached over with the staff to gently tap the Stormcutter's right shoulder. The dragon humored him and turned with a flick of his tail to follow the cliffs towards the village. They managed one circuit of Berk and a fraction of another when a great bolt of lightning skittered through the clouds, unnervingly close. He didn't need to be told twice to turn back. Dragons dropped out of the sky towards shelter every direction he looked, and Cloudjumper doubled his speed when thunder rolled overhead, loud and insistent. Rain was just starting to pelt them, hard as hail, when they dropped towards the smithy and Cassian could've dropped from exhaustion. Eret was waiting out in the square, shielding his eyes to scan the sky, at least until Tyrian barked a warning. He scrambled out of the way so the dragons could land, and Cassian slid down the arch of Cloudjumper’s wing, and nearly slid again in the muddy mire the ground had become. Eret rushed to him, slumping with relief that flickered to confusion as he looked to Valka shimmying off Tyrian, who scolded her over his shoulder. He could only offer a shrug and handed back the staff as Valka passed making her way elsewhere. Lightning flashed once more, closer this time, and he instinctively ducked at the deafening crack that followed.

  
“C’mon, let's get inside.” Eret muttered, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, “Cloudy, get him to the hanger, yeah?”

  
The Stormcutter thrummed, giving Tyrian a nudge and they both shot off over the rooftops to the cliffs below. But, he was content to be steered inside as fatigue hit hard. He was _starving_ , and thirsty besides. At least they would have a break, someplace warm with the promise of food and good company. Inside the smithy, the work table was covered in dragon scales, all purple and blue and gold… Oh, right. There were tools too, all scattered about, but he was getting a bit too fuzzy between the ears to puzzle that over. 

  
“Here, take a seat. I'll get you something.”

  
He eased down onto the bench, already missing the warm weight of Eret’s arm. Even tired as he was, he didn't dare lay his head down to rest, knowing damn well he would fall asleep. But he still managed to lose focus entirely until a tray of cold meat, cheese, dried fruit and bread was slid in front of him, followed by a cup of ale.

  
“Eat up, I can hear your stomach growling. I've only just gotten started.”

  
Eret sat at his right, taking a sharp awl and mallet and he watched, chewing slowly on a handful of berries. They were blisteringly sour, initially at least, but that slowly faded to something sweeter when washed down with ale. Eret set the awl at the top of a scale, inset slightly, then pounded firmly with the mallet. The awl punched through only a thin outer layer, and he worked the tool loose to mark the other side.

  
“The top layer is too tough to drill, and the scales are too brittle to punch all the way through. So, you have to do a bit of both.” he explained, “It's tedious, but not so bad when you split the work.

  
He nodded, tearing off a hunk of bread.

  
“Snotlout’s been nagging me about fitting you for one of his ‘new’ coats all morning.” Eret groused, punching another scale, “He’s as bad as Hiccup-”

  
“Am not!”

  
He jolted, almost choking on his drink. Snotlout stomped inside, shaking off the rain before dumping his satchel on the only bare bit of table left, while Cassian spluttered and coughed.

  
“Yes, you are. It's nothing but whip-stitch this and slip-seam that once you get worked up. And every little thing you make doesn't need pockets!” Eret shot back, gesturing with the mallet.

  
“You can say that all you want, but when you need a secret pocket don't come crying to me!” Snotlout huffed.

  
“Oh would you two drop it!” Gobber howled from somewhere unseen.

  
Eret rolled his eyes and made himself busy while Snotlout dug through his bag. What a strange little man… Not that he could bring himself to care too much, now that his energy was returning and his stomach growled all the more. How had he not noticed how hungry he'd gotten? At least there was had plenty of time to eat and work on things before getting thrown into more training, because he intended to finish all of this-

  
“Stand up for a sec, I need to get some measurements.” Snotlout said sharply.

  
Stifling a groan, he lurched to his feet, but he was _not_ abandoning his food. Snotlout mostly ignored him, and dropped a little notebook on the bench while he unraveled a long woven measure covered in tic-marks.

  
“At least you're almost Astrid’s size…” he said, more to himself.

  
Cassian and Eret both glowered as the tailor started with whatever he had planned. Snotlout measured him from shoulder to knee, shoulder to wrist, across the shoulders and around the arms-

  
“Leave some extra room there, he won't be ‘Astrid’s size’ much longer.” Eret chuckled, and he flushed.

  
“Yeah, not after _I'm_ done with him! If he can build half my muscle he’ll need a whole new wardrobe!” Snotlout gloated.

  
“And Astrid’s training, and mine.” Eret said firmly, hammering another scale.

  
“Yeah, I _guess_. Lift your arms for a sec, I gotta get a chest measurement-”

  
He rolled his eyes and obliged, and that finally seemed to be enough. The numbers all went into that little notebook, and Snotlout cast an incredulous eye over the table full of scales, his notes, then the scales again as he sat down.

  
“Purple huh? Red’s better.” he said dryly.

  
“It's what he picked Snotlout. These, a fur collar, black wool-” Eret listed.

  
“Sorry, all out. Nothing but scraps until the next shearing. Still have some green, brown, white- No, wait that's for the wedding, no white either. Still a few bolts of linen around, we could do a wool lining.” Snotlout mused.

  
Cassian watched him pace, between hammering the scales once Eret passed the tools over, so he could start drilling. He didn't much care about what went where so long as he had something warm eventually. But a pensive look crossed Eret’s face, only for a moment, as he drilled away.

  
The storm raged on as they worked through the afternoon, until they had a whole sack full of bored scales ready to stitch when the outermost layer of the coat was finished. Eret had cut some leather too, for guards to weather potential years of straps and rope and packs over his shoulders. There was still plenty of time before dinner, so Eret moved on to the firescale and he _thrummed_ with excitement. There was an old prototype undersuit lying around (probably Astrid’s) that looked to be the right size. They could tailor that to fit, so that just left the armor proper.

  
“So, let's start with something easy. Pauldrons just sit on top of the chest plate, with a leather strap to connect them so you can still move your arms. Then there's extra guards that hang down so you can belt that to your arm. Some pieces have iron plates or wire built in under the leather, usually the bracers, breastplate, and top of the helm. Armor that won't stop a weapon isn't much use.” Eret explained.

  
Cassian watched as he laid out worn wooden forms for every bit of armor he would need, ignoring Snotlout as he took more measurements.

  
“I liked yours, with the apron-bit. It looks easy to move in.” he said.

  
“Right you are! Easier to make and ride in too. But we can't get too far ahead, Hiccup will want to fit wings in somewhere, so we have to let him account for that. We can start on the bracers for now…”

  
Eret cut great swathes of leather for him to stitch neat and tight, panels and belts and straps, while Gobber forged frames of thin strips of iron filled in with a wire weave. But the day was growing long and the storm was fading by the time the frames were finished, so they left the rest for tomorrow.

  
“Why don't you go ahead to the hall, I'll clean up.” Eret waved him on.

  
“I-” he started to protest, but his stomach growled, “Okay…”

***

Eret watched him go, sprinting through the rain and mud until he was out of sight. Snotlout scoffed, throwing his things back into his bag with far more force than necessary.

  
“You're doomed.” he drawled.

  
“Shut up Jorgensen.” he snapped back, though he couldn't muster any bite for his words.

  
There were a few more things to stash away, and he mulled over his earlier thoughts. He didn't wear his cloak all that much, he could always make another. It _swamped_ Cassian, so there must be enough material. It would be warmer, better for the wind…

  
“Snotlout.” he finally sighed, “My cloak. Would that be enough? For the coat.”

  
Snotlout paused, pursed his lips, counted off on his fingers as he ran who-knew-what calculations through his head, and finally nodded.

  
“It could be. Can't say for sure, but I can start with linen for a draft and get back to you-” he stopped short, thinking once more, “Just- don't do anything stupid.”

  
He could only watch in utter bafflement as Snotlout stomped away, out into the rain. Gobber tutted from the forge, returning his iron to the fire.

  
“Don't mind him. Never was good at talking about his feelings.” he rolled his eyes, “He almost threw up admitting he cared about _Hookfang_ back in the day.”

  
Eret stared, still confused. Snotlout was such a brash wall he tended to avoid the man whenever possible, hell even the other riders did even if they wouldn't admit it. But he would worry about that later, Cassian was waiting.

***

And so, Cassian’s new life took shape. Training body and blade through the morning, working in the forge through the afternoon, slog off to dinner, suffer one last workout, then he could _finally_ drop into bed, utterly exhausted. It was hard and he was always sore _somewhere_ , but after nearly a month it was like something finally snapped into place. He woke before Eret to start breakfast, finished his run a little faster and a little less winded, lasted longer in his matches against Eret and Astrid, flew better- Every day after saw more of the same measured improvement. Soon he was running the whole course twice in the same span of time, besting his trainers as often as losing and finally, he was given his first test wingsuit. It was simple, like Eret’s, but it was _his_ and he barely waited for Hiccup to explain how to use it.

  
Naturally, he almost crashed into a cliff and Hiccup promptly took the suit back to make something a little more stable.

  
He saw just as much training with all the dragons of Berk, usually with Fishlegs. He was kind, if excitable, and there was so much to _see_. They even made an expedition to the great volcano, the dragons’ old home, to see the terrible dry bones of the beast that kept them under it's spell, the ribs like sea stacks and a skull bigger than a _house_. He shivered at the sight of it and even Tyrian, born after it's death, quaked under him. It wasn't all smooth-sailing of course. The Nightmares were especially standoffish, Whispering Deaths were disinclined to meet him and Scaudrons were, well, _Scauldrons._ But most were kind, loving even. Especially the Scuttleclaws.

  
It took a few weeks for the sake of the ceramic, but the glass kiln was finally working and the first thing he made was batch after batch of glass lenses for goggles and helms, reinforced by casting the molten glass over a mesh of hair-fine wire. They couldn't risk the glass shattering so close to their eyes. With that done, his own helmet was finally finished. He was quite proud of his work, even if Eret did most of the foul bit of gluing everything into place. A toothy, savage grin of pearly scales stretched from ear to ear, under the point of a false beak that flowed upwards into a bristling crown of spines, all purple, red and gold. The rest was so nearly done, but they couldn't finish without the wings and Hiccup insisted on working on that alone. So, Cassian made glass. Tiles for windows, hundreds of them it seemed, and that in turn kept the carpenters busy. That was easy enough to teach Eret, but now they needed to move on to something more difficult. Cups, bottles, flasks for the healer, even little glass flowers he made in secret with help from Gobber and more than a few Terrible Terrors. It felt good to be making things again, to see the awe and delight on the faces of the villagers when their new goods emerged from the cooling cave. He was learning their names, slowly but surely.

  
Though he was busy through the afternoons, he was grateful to be spending them with Eret. Most days at least. When they weren't flying, or working in the forge, walking through the woods or running Astrid's course or going out to sail on Eret's old boat, they were just relaxing at home. _Their_ home, merciful heaven what a thought. So much calm time just, _together_ let that initial fiery urgency settle into something that warmed him to the core, it felt like _home_. The annoyed wrinkle in Eret’s nose, his crooked smile, the burning focus in his eyes, it all left him weak, but it was more than just the surface now. Eret was so calm, so at ease here that any lingering nervousness evaporated in days, and they talked endlessly over whatever they could think of until their throats ached from it. His wit, his charm, all of it was genuine. Cassian never once found himself second-guessing and he'd never known such _confidence_ with another person. Deeper wants stirred of course, in the quiet privacy of their home. More than once he'd snuck a glance mid-change, watching the muscles of Eret's back ripple, his arms, his thighs- Surely no one could blame him for wanting to touch, to mark, to claim Eret as his own. He knew he wasn't alone in such thoughts either. A blind man could see how much he'd changed from all of this, growing broad and hard with new muscle thanks to good food and hard work. He'd spent plenty of time looking after all, wondering what... what _Eret_ would think, of the wholly new lines raised between his hips, drawing the eye so temptingly down, how dense his chest had grown, and his arms and even the long lines of his legs. That had to look nice to someone, right? For sure he'd caught Eret looking just as often as he'd been caught in turn, especially the morning he almost tore the sleeves off his shoddy old tunic as he stretched. Eret’s pupils blew wide as he watched, his face flush dark, and his trousers- mercy, there was no mistaking _that_. Endlessly frustrating as it was, he had to be patient. No matter how badly he wanted to drag Eret into bed, or better yet, get hauled off his feet and slammed into the nearest wall-

The peace couldn't last of course. Trappers emerged in the west and the raids began once more, almost nightly, and Eret was needed in the lion’s share of them. Those raids ranged near and far, sometimes they didn't get back until the sky blushed with dawn. Cassian couldn't bring himself to sleep on those nights, not until he knew Eret was home safely because he _still_ wasn't ready to join them, according to Hiccup. He was too much of a risk, a liability, and that stuck bitter in his throat. But the night Eret returned with a bloody nose, black eye and split lip was the final straw. Something in him _snapped_ and if Eret hadn't held him back, he had every intention of seizing Hiccup by his apron and _throttling_ him.

  
“ _Please_ -” he begged, voice raw with fear, “Please, chief I'm ready, you have to let me help!”

  
He could say nothing more, not with a thousand deaths playing out in his head. What could happen the next time, or the time after that, while he was stuck here doing _nothing?_ Hiccup sighed hard through his nose, brow furrowing deep.

  
“Come to the forge first thing tomorrow.” he finally said.

  
Cassian was faintly aware of nodding and Eret steering him home, where the fire still crackled in the hearth and water warmed in the kettle. He tried to help with the armor, but his hands shook so badly he fumbled every lace and buckle. Eret did most of the work, until he finally pulled open the lacing and peeled the leather down Eret's shoulders. It didn't even occur to him that the furtiveness and shy glances were abandoned, even as more and more pale, scarred skin was bared to him. There were bruises new and old all over, scratches, burns- A small, wounded sound left his throat and he nearly collapsed against Eret’s back. All of this, because he wasn't out there at Eret’s side where he _should_ be-

  
“Hey…” Eret murmured, shucking his arms free of the sleeves to turn and pull him close, “It's part of the job Cass. This is what we do. I've- I've had worse.”

  
Since it was very much at eye-level, the scar he meant was obvious and Cassian choked on something half a sob and half a scream. A brand glowed an angry red in the firelight, crooked and just over his heart, the whole of it bigger than his hand. Tears muddled his vision and he sagged, head dropping against Eret’s sternum as his shoulders shook with hitching, weak breaths.

  
“I'll be fine. We’re made of tough stuff up north.” Eret whispered into his hair.

  
“Whatever it takes-” he ground out, “I will fight by your side. I won't let anyone hurt you, ever again. And if I ever find who did this-”

  
“He's long gone Cass, it's already done.”

  
He didn't care that Eret, frankly, stank of smoke and sweat and hugged him tight around the middle, _relishing_ those strong arms settling around his shoulders, hands stroking his hair, messaging his tense neck… They couldn't stay this way for long though, if they ever wanted to get that suit off. He took a bracing breath, swallowed hard, and forced the tears from his eyes.

  
“I left water warming.” he sighed, lifting his head, “Let's clean you up.”

  
Eret made a noise of agreement, nose wrinkling in disgust as he worked the suit further down. Cassian turned away to offer a little privacy as he fetched some rags, a towel, and a small bench to sit by the hearth so Eret didn't take a chill. He could try to clean the suit a little, there was only so much that could be done for it… Eret slipped beside him, taking the towel as it was offered and draping it over his lap for a little modesty as he sat. Cassian soaked a cloth, wrung it out, and stood before him, cradling the back of his head.

  
“Here, lean back…”

  
Eret complied, eyes drooping shut as the cloth swept over his brow, nose, cheeks, cleaning away the tacky sweat and dried blood and soot. His lip was still sore and raw, as was the bruising under his eye, he breathed one apology after another as he passed over them. When the cloth turned grey with filth, he freshened it in the kettle and wrung it out once more, moving down to Eret’s throat, shoulders…

He quickly stepped around to start at his back. They couldn't get too carried away. He finished there and passed the cloth over, taking another to wet and clean the suit. It was practically routine now, turning the whole of it inside out, wiping it down and laying it flat to dry for the next raid… He didn't know what Hiccup had planned, his own firescale still wasn't done but he had his knives. Did he need wings that badly? He wanted to help, he was wasted here just running in circles-

  
Warm fingers curled around his wrist, slipped into his palm, claimed his hand and pulled him to the stairs. Right, time to sleep. They needed sleep. He followed to the loft, to bed, slipping under the covers and slotting perfectly into Eret’s arms, tucking in tighter… _oh_. They were- he- this was-

Warm. So very, very warm. He didn't know where to put his hands, how far his legs should go, was his head _really_ alright on Eret's chest like this? Sweet mercy, how _loud_ his heart was, right under his cheek... He could get used to this.

  
“Sing for me?” Eret rasped, not long after they settled properly.

  
He did, calling on all the strength he had left to intone the words low and sweet. Their song, _their_ story, and Eret would know it all soon enough. For real this time.


	8. Chapter 8

Morning came, grey and dull even with the dawn and Cassian was loathe to move. He was blessedly warm in Eret’s embrace, twined together head to toe in a perfect braid. But Hiccup gave an order, and he wouldn't exactly make a good impression ignoring that. Not now. So he stretched, untangled his legs and slowly, painfully, removed the arms from around his neck. But he left Eret there with a kiss to his brow, smoothing his hair back. The bruises had deepened, soured all over and his heart clenched, threatening to strangle him from within. Eret would _never_ fight alone again, he would make sure of it.

Smoke rose from the forge chimney and he hurried downhill, mostly because of the chill in the air. Snotlout assured him the coat was almost done, but he had been saying that for days. He wouldn't criticize a favor, but the man could at least be _honest._ It was dim inside, even for the smithy. Only the back was lit by more than the forge, driven as ever by the wind-powered bellows. He skirted the table, stubbed his toes on two chairs and then a bench for good measure, making enough noise to rouse someone in the back room. Hiccup peered out of the gloom, eyes baggy and sunken from lack of sleep. He silently waved him over, stretching and rolling his shoulders.

“Finished the wings, got fins on the boots…” Hiccup said mid-yawn, “We’ll finish this today. Once you can glide, and we find a small ship… You’ll have your first raid. _But,_ this can't be about just one person.”

The implication rang clear, and he slowly nodded.

“We’re out there because dragons are being captured and abused, turned into weapons to hurt other people. _No one_ is safe as long as trappers try to make a living in war. This is bigger than all of us, and I need to know that you can follow orders, even if that means leaving someone behind.” Hiccup stared, long and hard.

He sagged, lips pressing thin, “I will not lie to you chief, I don't think that's a promise I could keep.”

“Your loyalty is admirable, but we can't afford to put a whole mission in jeopardy for any one person-”

“Then I'll fight _harder.”_ he slammed his hands on the table, shaking with barely-checked fury, “I'll fight for _ten_ men if I must! Doubt me all you wish, but this is his home and I will _die_ for it if I must.”

Conviction _burned_ in him, molten and bright in his blood and after a long look, Hiccup seemed to acquiesce, laying a set of metal-framed wings out on the table.

“Then we start. The helmet is done, the undersuit, the bracers?” he asked.

He forced himself to breathe in slow, and release the tension from his shoulders. This was not how he should be acting.

“Boots and greaves need scales, the breastplate and kilt are framed, the pauldrons and arm guards are done, and the belt for the plate.” he answered.

“It'll be heavy with all that iron.” Hiccup warned as he fetched his tools.

“It will pay off when I need it most.” he shrugged.

The wings were easy enough to affix to the back of the breastplate frame, with a little extra bracing to keep them stable. Hiccup ran wire cables through the wings to curious spring-loaded spools just under each shoulder. They were to pull the wings shut when he pulled the frames in, it seemed. The triangular fins spanning knee to ankle on the boots had similar coils attached, but those would have to be released and wound manually. Integrating the wings into the breastplate and thigh guards was a chore, but they would stretch from shoulder to knee and extend well beyond the limits of his arms thanks to the frame. With that done, there was still space left on the boots, thigh guards and back-plate for sheaths for his knives, built right into the armor. That could come later. With the last bit of leather finally set over the breastplate, the armor was done enough for a test, so Hiccup left Cassian to change.

He had just pulled his tunic over his head when a soft knock came at the door, and Eret slipped in a beat after, closing the door behind himself and he looked like _hell_. A witty quip died on Cassian’s tongue, and his heart sank like a stone.

“You should be resting…” he scolded instead.

“There's work to do.” Eret insisted, “You should've woken me up.”

“You're _exhausted,_ I can manage this much. You can't keep running yourself into the ground!”

Cassian swept him into a tight embrace, burying his face in the crook of Eret’s neck.

“Please…” he murmured weakly, “Let me take the burden too. You don't have to do everything on your own anymore. I am _with_ you.”

Eret just sniffled, holding him all the tighter and as wonderful as it was, Hiccup was waiting. He leaned back, still so tantalizingly close, but it was Eret’s turn to surprise him with a gentle kiss to the brow.

“Let's get you in that suit then.” Eret’s beautiful smile had finally returned.

Even tailored, the suit was still a struggle to get over every joint and curve of him, and it was _hot_ even in the cool of morning. Eret insisted it just needed a little breaking in as he laced up the back, all the way to the high cowl neck. This was awful in a hundred different ways, pinching and tight and stifling, and the linen smalls were an absolute _must,_ to hell with what Hiccup thought. But that was done, time for the armor. Cassian could manage the boots, fastening buckles between them and the undersuit. Eret lowered the breastplate over his head so very carefully, shifting it to let the loose parts settle. He staggered under the weight of it for just a moment, but set to belting the arm guards down, then the thigh guards' doubled straps just above the knee and near the groin. One last thick belt held everything together about his middle, weaving under the wing-panels with a buckle- as big as his _palm_ , was that really necessary? That had to be Gobber's doing. This was the first real trial so he shifted, twisted, tugging this way and that to test the stitching and it proved to be sound, so far at least. The bracers came last, buckling to the undersuit near his elbows in addition to the loops around his middle finger and palm on the hand guard. Last, Eret passed over the helm, and he took a deep breath before slipping it on, then quickly pushed up the face plate to let that breath slip free. The toothy grin of the mask split open to frame his face, like the jaws of something terrible and unfit for the light of day. Childish it may be, but he adored it.

“Need to get used to this awful thing…” he muttered, scratching his nose.

“It's better than it used to be, your lenses made a world of difference.” Eret said, “Now, just- pay attention, listen to what Hiccup says. And… _please_ be safe.”

He took Eret’s hand, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to those scarred knuckles.

“I promise.”

Hiccup was waiting outside with Toothless and Tyrian, all ready to fly and probably growing impatient. But Cassian had to move slowly to get used to the mass of the firescale, the iron _did_ add a good deal of weight. He would have to practice fighting in this, the gloves added bulk to his hands that he just wasn't used to. And, the knives should get a good wrap around the handles, so they wouldn't slip… There were many things he still had to learn.

“Oh good, it all fits. Once we know the wings work we’ll scale up the rest. Now, put your hands through those loops, grab the handles and push out.” Hiccup instructed, watching intently.

Cassian did. The first leather loop settled around his wrist as he fixed his grip on the bars, and slowly pushed outwards, wincing as the metal and leather creaked. There was some resistance in the joints, but past a certain point the frame _popped,_ snapping into place and holding the wings in a smooth swept-back arc. The dragons chirped in surprise, looking around either side of Hiccup.

“So, they’ll lock open but you still have to hold on to steer and support them. The frames just aren't strong enough to work like real wings, they’d be too heavy otherwise. Now, _carefully,_ pull back in- no a little more with your wrists, until it pops again.”

He put as much pressure as he dared, and the springs in the joints protested before finally snapping shut. He eased the wings back, shuffling the leather until it closed neatly.

“The springs are all new, they might just be a little stiff. Open 'em up again, just to be sure.” Hiccup jotted something down on a parchment scrap.

So, Cassian did, again, extending and retracting the wings a few more times for good measure. But he paused, looking at the faint shadow he cast over the ground. It was _very_ like a dragon… Toothless coiled around his rider, tail flicking, and his eyes locked on the fins there. Slowly, he raised one leg to open the flap on that boot, then the other. His shadow looked _much_ more familiar, and Toothless seemed to think so too. He peered at the smaller fins as Cassian folded the wings back, ear-flaps perking keenly.

“My thoughts exactly sir Fury. I think watching _him_ fly would be most enlightening.” he said, winding in the boot-flaps.

“If you insist.” Hiccup shrugged, but something told him that was exactly what the chief wanted to hear.

They settled in their respective saddles and nearly took off, when Hiccup threw up a hand for one last word of caution.

“Oh, wait- Open up the stabilizers _first,_ before you jump. You'll never be able to reach them with the wings open.”

Ah, yes that made sense. He nodded, slid his face plate down, and they launched into the cold morning air. It was a good time to practice, he thought, scanning the sky. It was only a little overcast now around the island, but clouds hung on every inch of the horizon, dark and menacing as mountains. It looked every bit like a storm in the making, but the wind was gentle for now. He guided Tyrian above and slightly behind Toothless and there, he watched. The way the dragon flexed and angled his wings, twisting to find his balance in a cross-wind… It was _fascinating._ He wouldn't have the benefit of flapping of course, but the frames had enough give to twist and he could shift from the hip to angle the flaps if he kept his feet firmly together. He could _do_ this. Especially now that they were well away from the cliffs, and buildings, and mountains…

“Alright, we must try again dear heart.” he scratched between Tyrian’s shoulders.

The Nadder looked back a fraction, rumbling uncertainty.

“I trust _you,_ have a little faith!” he pouted.

Tyrian snorted sparks, shaking his head but holding steady as Cassian lifted his feet from the stirrups and released the fins. Now… as big as these wings were he couldn't throw them open however he pleased, it would need care and precision. He raised one foot, planting it under him on the saddle as he worked through the loops to grip the handles… He took a steeling breath and kicked up and away, snapping the wings out. He wobbled as he found his balance but the sky welcomed him, even as the dragons pulled further and further ahead. Tyrian circled back, and Cassian _flew_ , pitching and rolling in the wind as _Instinct_ took over. He didn't even have to think, his body just reacted all on it's own, his blood and bones _knew_ this. He was faintly aware of Hiccup and Toothless watching, but he didn't care.

Getting back in the saddle was tricky, but he managed and they returned to the smithy. Hiccup seemed satisfied at least, even as they landed. But he still called for Cassian to stop before he could enter the smithy.

“I just want to check the stitching one more time, before we get the scale on.” Hiccup said, already pouring over the back plate.

“Ah. Good plan.” he shifted uncomfortably, desperate to scratch under a bracer.

Once Hiccup was done, which took entirely too long, he _bolted,_ clawing at the buckles. He couldn't get under the suit until he got almost everything _else_ off and if that didn't happen immediately that itch was going to drive him _mad._

 _“Eret,_ for the love of whatever gods are watching get this _off_ of me-” he squawked.

“Cass, what’s-” Eret shot to his feet.

“Need to _scratch.”_ he cut in, finally yanking the big belt open.

Eret’s concern turned to amusement he didn't even try to hide as he helped with the rest, removing the breastplate and unlacing the suit. Cassian yanked his arm free and found some sort of insect chewing welts into his skin. He swatted it off with a disgusted sneer and _finally,_ scratched the itch, ignoring Eret’s laughter. And Gobber’s

And Hiccup’s.

 _And_ Toothless’s…

With some reprieve from the trappers, there was time to train and finish the firescale. While the undersuit was largely red and black, the plate was covered in Tyrian’s violet and indigo scales, with golden spikes added to the bracers, pauldrons and greaves. At Hiccup’s insistence, they painted the wings as well, black with red stripes, and the smaller fins were left solid red. A little later, they added hooked claws to the toes of the boots and hand guards. He would surely cut a fearsome figure once he got out there. But for now, he practiced endlessly with the wings and his knives, drawing and sheathing them over and over until he could do it blindly. The helmet… he needed to get used to fighting in that too, with the visor down. So he sparred, with everyone he could steal away and he ran the course in the woods to break in the suit, the boots especially. It was hard, but he couldn’t count on anything out there being easy to make up for his lack of experience. By the end of the day he was _exhausted,_ but they had finally put the bedroll up and he'd never slept better.

By the end of the week, scouts returned with news of a trapper ship, a small two-mast with six cages, all full. At dusk, Cassian prepared for the raid. It would be just him, Hiccup, Astrid and Valka. He knew the chief wanted no distractions, this was a _test_ after all.

“Eret, have you seen my other- oh, thank you.” he took the bracer and froze with his hands tangled in the belts. A silver medallion gleamed on the cuff that was certainly _not_ there yesterday, a familiar owl-ish sigil. 

He turned, finding Eret sheepishly fiddling with his helm.

“For luck, you know?” he murmured, and Cassian’s heart threatened to burst.

He hastily crammed his hand in the bracer and stepped into Eret’s arms, already open to him, folding him in.

“I'm afraid I've no token for you in return.” he muttered, face burning.

“I think I can last until you make one.” Eret idly scratched the back of his neck, and huffed a laugh, “Got all your itches sorted this time?”

“You're never going to let me forget that, are you?” he grumbled.

“Never.”

_“Ass.”_

They chuckled, sighed, and forced themselves apart.

“We won't be long, Hiccup thinks less than an hour.” he reluctantly took up his helmet, “I'm to be a lookout with Valka, watch how it's done.”

“That may be for the best. Hiccup and Astrid'll be in and out in no time. Six cages is nothing compared to some of the raids-” Eret cut himself short, “Just, be careful. No matter what happens.”

“I will.”

The ship had strayed even closer to Berk than they'd thought, almost _too_ close. He and Valka circled silently above as Hiccup and Astrid crept aboard, each taking one side of the deck. The cages were full of more agreeable dragons, Gronckles and Snafflefangs and Scuttleclaws, plus another he couldn't identify in the gloom. But one box caught his eye, stuffed in a corner of the bow behind one of many barrels, half-covered with a tarp and he could _swear_ he saw a tail peeking out. He tried to catch Hiccup’s eye, on several loops, but the chief just crossed the ship to help Astrid with the last cage, furthest from the bow. He would have to check himself, he could beg forgiveness later.

He steered Tyrian across the deck, ignoring Cloudjumper’s hushed growl and loosened himself from the saddle, then leapt to catch a rope hanging from the mast. There was a moment where he clung tight, waiting out the wild swing and sway, before slowly dropping to the deck, a few feet at a time. _Now_ Hiccup saw him of course and silently, furiously, tried to wave him away. But he signed back just as insistently that there was one more cage behind the barrels. Hiccup’s frustration was palpable as he stormed over, but Cassian froze. The faintest sound reached his ears, wood creaking high and sharp, like a bow being drawn-

A twang, a whistle, he only just saw the arrowhead glint- heading right for Hiccup. He didn't think. _Instinct_ moved him into the arrow’s path with one long stride, shoving Hiccup away and raising an arm to shield his face. Pain lanced through his chest and he stumbled, caught his footing and dragged Hiccup behind an empty cage by the elbow. One of the Nadders snarled and a muffled human scream sailed out over the ocean, cutting off with a faint splash.

“Go, I'll check the cage!” he hissed, pushing Hiccup again towards the rail.

He didn't look back and bolted down to the prow, shoving the barrel aside. With much more care, he lifted the tarp away and sucked in a sharp breath. The cage was no higher than his knee, yet a dragon was cruelly stuffed inside. It may have been the darkness, but he couldn't tell if it was breathing, or what it even was. He didn't care. He wrenched the door open and pulled the hatchling out, cradling the limp creature against his chest, barely bigger than a house cat. It gurgled in his ear as it settled, breath rasping as it's little lungs heaved. No, no that was _never_ a good sign. He waved Tyrian down, awkwardly clambering into the saddle as he whispered to the infant in his arms, _‘Hold on little one, dear heart, sweet child, I'm here, stay strong-_ ’ and it keened, scrambling for purchase with weak limbs. In a flourish of wings they were airborne, to home and help and healing, _please_ hold on.

It took a moment to catch up with their little flock, but the shocked gasp as he pulled up beside Valka almost made him drop the hatchling.

“You've been _shot!”_ she hissed, yanking her helm off.

“What?” he pushed his face plate back and only then saw the arrow stuck in his breastplate, near his right shoulder, “Oh, right…”

How could he have forgotten? He freed one hand from the hatchling to pull it out, but flinched at the sharp chorus of _‘No!’_ s from the other riders. They all looked on with growing panic, faces bared to the night.

“But-” he protested.

 _“Don't,_ don't move it!” Hiccup snapped, “We have to get you to Gothi!”

“But it's not-”

“Keep your arm still!” Valka barked.

He rolled his eyes. It hadn’t even pierced the armor. But, he would show them once they got into some proper light.

They landed hard in the square, as was custom, with the usual crowd waiting and there Hiccup leapt off Toothless, shoving dragons aside to clear more space.

“Someone get Gothi, help me get him down-” he shouted.

 _“CHIEF HICCUP.”_ Cassian shouted over him.

He looked Hiccup right in the eye and pulled the arrow from his armor with the barest flick of his wrist.

“Iron plating.” he said, a little smugly, tapping the arrow against his chest.

Hiccup deflated, still moon-eyed in shock and finally, slowly nodded, taking a shaky step back to let him down. The hatchling croaked as he shifted and that brought Valka, Hiccup, Fishlegs _and_ Eret closer.

“She's sick, barely breathing-” he said weakly, adjusting her in his arms.

“What _is_ she?” Fishlegs whispered.

“Come, this way…” Valka tugged on his arm.

He followed and Eret fell in behind him, all the way to Gothi’s earthbound cottage with his heart in his throat. The old healer seemed surprised to have a dragon laid out on her table instead of a man, but she set to work anyway. Now in the light, Cassian could only stare, dumping the arrow on the table. She was mostly black, tinged purple over the wings and armor, and mottled blue down her belly and legs. But her forelegs were strangely jointed, spiked and plated like a scorpion… and she was little more than skin and bone. Her eyes and nostrils were crusted with filth, she fought for every breath- Gothi’s face was grim, and Fishlegs let out a shaky sign.

“She's… really sick. Maybe poison, maybe infection, if we knew what she _was_ maybe we could do more but- I don't know if she’ll last the night.” he muttered.

“No, she's _strong,_ I know she can make it! She needs food, water-” he snapped.

“Sometimes, the kindest thing to do is let nature take it's course.” Valka sighed.

 _“No.”_ he growled, scooping the hatchling up once more, “I'm not just going to _give up.”_

He turned on his heel and stormed out into the night.

***

Valka tutted, the faintest bit of disapproval furrowing in her brow and Eret frowned.

“He's never _lost_ a dragon Valka, is there any harm letting him try?” he huffed.

“Hope will only take you so far Eret, he needs to learn to temper his expectations. Even in the _best_ of times dragons are lost.” she retorted.

“So he should ‘learn’ by letting a _baby die?”_ he was snarling now, damn, “On top of _getting shot?_ How did that even happen?!”

“It was meant for me _.”_

Hiccup slogged inside, raking a trembling hand through his hair, eyes lost.

“Not _one_ of us saw the archer. If Cassian hadn’t been there, if he hadn't gone after that cage-” he swallowed visibly, drawn and pale, “He's brought _some_ kind of luck along with him. If anyone can bring that dragon back from the brink, it's him.”

Eret left them there, someone could see to the rest of the dragons in the morning and he wasn't going to listen to all their doubts. He snagged a few fish from the feeding station along the way, and paused outside his door for a bracing breath. Inside, Cassian’s firescale was scattered all over and he'd set himself up by the fire, tending a steaming kettle with the hatchling bundled in his lap. He sniffled, scrubbing an angry tear from his cheek and, to Eret’s shock, the hatchling _squeaked_ at the scent of fish boiling.

“Just a little longer dear heart, be strong for me…” Cassian murmured.

He shut the door behind him, dropped the fish in a bucket, and picked up the firescale piece by piece to put it away.

“Let's get you out of the rest, she'll be alright for a few minutes.” he gently tugged on Cassian’s arm.

Cassian almost protested, but sagged and passed over the bundle of dragon and cloth. The baby peeped weakly, cracking one eye open.

“Hey, hey kitten take it easy, you're in good hands now…” he cooed, “Let's put you-”

He looked around, and just set her down on a chair, dragged over to the hearth. He returned to Cassian’s side to help pull off the breastplate, then unlace the suit… His eyes were drawn back, again and again to that tiny puncture in the scale, where the arrow would’ve skewered him right through the lung. If they hadn't layered it… He swallowed hard and stepped around as Cassian pulled the suit down his chest, revealing _unmarked_ skin. He let a shaky breath loose, sliding his palms up Cassian’s arms, to his shoulders, until they pressed against his chest.

“That was- you-” he stammered.

“Eret…”

“That was _too close.”_ he croaked.

Cass shucked the sleeves off and pulled his hands up to cradle his face, kissed his palms… He could _see_ Cass thinking, but all the affection was proving… distracting.

“I would have done the same for you.” Cassian finally said, “My armor was stronger than his, I couldn't let the _chief_ get shot. It was just luck that I landed, Hiccup didn't see me pointing at the cage so I was going after it myself…”

“He was pretty rattled…” he brushed his thumbs over Cassian’s cheekbones.

 _Gods_ he was beautiful, even weighed down with worry and fatigue and those garnet eyes pulled him in without fail. He wanted to kiss him so _badly._ But the dragon peeped from her nest and Cassian sighed, kissing his knuckles as he pulled back and finished stripping the suit off. Eret made himself busy with the kettle, stirring the rough-chopped bits of fish in the little water that covered them.

“She needs water first, something like a broth should give her the strength to eat more. Dragons don't nurse of course, but the smell should be enough to get her chewing on a cloth… I nursed a kitten that way once.” Cassian explained as fabric rustled and he fought the urge to turn around, “Well, it wasn't a kitten, like a regular cat, but a baby _wildcat_ I found in a snare. I had a habit of bringing wild animals home when I was young. Birds, snakes, frogs…”

He chuckled, deep and sweet as he dragged another chair over and Eret stiffened. Cassian hadn't bothered to put on anything more than a tunic, leaving his long, strong legs bare. He scrubbed a hand over his face as Cassian sat, settling the hatchling in his lap. She peeped again at the smell of food, managing to lift her head a fraction. He snatched a rag, wetted a corner in the bucket by the hearth and scooted closer.

“Here, lift her head a little, let's see if we can help those eyes…” he winced as the hatchling whined in protest.

He just barely touched the cloth to her eyelid, letting the crust soak and soften so it could be cleaned away. Cassian had to roll her a bit to do the same on the other side, and she flopped bonelessly, _gods_ the poor beastie. Her nose was a little easier to reach and she didn't approve of that much more, but she could breathe a little better between wet and raspy coughs. And, she could open her eyes, looking at them both as she blinked them clean and clear.

“Oh _look_ at you, sweet little flower…” Cassian sniffled, _beaming_ even as he scrubbed his cheeks dry.

“Not so far into Hel’s door as they thought, were you?” he tickled under her jaw.

She peeped, blinking sluggishly.

The ‘soup’ was done enough, so they took turns dunking a twisted bit of cloth in it for the hatchling to chew on. Just as Cassian said, the taste and smell of fish was enough to get her mouth moving and she had just enough strength to swallow. It only amounted to a few drops at a time, but they persisted and the broth bolstered her, slowly but surely, until she was sucking the cloth dry in seconds. Soon her little belly bulged and her eyes shone brighter, right up until she drifted to sleep and Cassian yawned wide.

“Alright, bedtime. Both of you.” he rubbed between Cass's shoulders.

Cassian nodded slowly, slogging up the stairs and crawling under the covers, curling around the bundled hatchling as he returned to bank the fire, before joining them at last under the furs and quilts. The dragon slept deeply, sheltered under their arms, snoring in little, soft chirps.

They woke late to the demanding squeaks of the hatchling and he could’ve _wept_ at the tender smile that dawned on Cassian’s face. He rose first to stoke the fire and warm the fish again, and more water in another kettle to give the poor beast a bath.

“We need a _name_ for you.” Eret hummed, once Cass joined him by the hearth with the bundled dragon.

“Yes-” Cassian yawned, “I was thinking about it all night. Haven't found one yet…”

“Boulderbash? Hoarfrost?” he mused, tickling the hatchling’s belly.

Cassian’s nose wrinkled, “No, that's not right.”

“Undertow?”

“Hmm… no.”

“Codfish?”

“That's _awful-”_

“Eret, _dragon_ of Eret-”

_“Absolutely not!”_

He cackled, even as Cassian swatted at his arm and the baby glowered. But her demands grew more insistent, so he went back to the kettle to stir it, but not without dropping a kiss on Cassian’s brow. It just felt _right,_ a bridge between what they really wanted. And that was coming, someday _soon_ he could feel it. They fed the dragon again, even daring to give her a little solid meat, chopped nearly to a paste to be easy on her stomach. She soon had the strength to lift her head and she looked a little less like a bag of bones now that she'd rehydrated, so they readied a bath. She sat in the tub, watching them curiously as they ladled water over her back, one slow scoop at a time. Cassian almost _cried_ when she even found the spark to splash around with her strange pinching foreclaws. But with warmth and food bringing her back from the brink, that meant the inevitable would resume. She gurgled, back arching as her tail curled over towards her head, and her wings fluttered.

“Oh no. Tub, outside, _now._ Get the door!” he grabbed the washtub, dragon and all.

Luckily, Cassian didn't stop to ask questions, yanking the door open just as the horrifically wet and foul bubbles started. He gagged at the smell and set the tub down on the nearest flat surface, backing even more quickly away.

“Oh, she's gonna need another bath after _this.”_ he croaked, fighting another retch.

“Well, if she can still void her bowels that's… better than the alternative.” Cassian said.

He emerged, _with_ trousers thank Odin, watching with mute disgust as the hatchling shook with the force of her efforts, and eventually climbed out of the tub all on her own. He upended another bucket over her back to rinse her off, drawing a squeak of protest.

“I'll get rid of _this-”_ he gagged again as he picked up the tub, “Be right back.”

He held his breath and moved as fast as he dared to the compost pit, emptying the tub there and rinsing it a few times by the cistern, then left it to dry in Skullcrusher’s stall. Inside, Cassian stood by the fire with the hatchling bundled in his mantle, stroking her back as she snuggled against his neck, purring weakly.

“You… have never seen anything like her, have you?” he asked softly.

“No, never.” he had to admit, “The Triple Stryke is _close_ , they have weird crab-claws and plate armor, but _three_ tails with stingers. I wonder…”

He found the bulbous tip of her tail in the folds of cloth, gently pressed on the fleshy underside, and let out a low whistle as the plates of the bulb spread like petals. The pearly point of a stinger slowly extended from deep in her tail, until he let go.

“We’ll have to watch out for _that.”_ he muttered, “Not that she’ll go mad-dog of course, but babies don't have the best control of all their bits and pieces.”

“That is true… It looks like she has little tusks too, I've seen them move. How _strange_ you are.” Cassian cooed, so genuinely in _love_ Eret’s heart ached at the sight, “I think Foxglove suits you, little one. A beautiful flower in all your colors, but poisonous to anything stupid enough to eat it. Yes, little Foxglove you'll be.”

He chuckled weakly, sweeping the both of them into his arms and resting his brow against Cassian’s.

 _“You_ tried to eat that flower once, didn't you?” he asked, grin splitting his face.

“I was _five.”_ Cassian huffed.

He only laughed harder, and Foxglove grumbled.

“So-” he finally wound himself down, “How about we show her off? I bet Valka will eat her _helmet._ And Fishlegs- well, he’ll just be his usual self.”

Cassian nodded, handing Foxglove over so he could get his boots on, but he paused, looking around the room.

“Where did your cloak go?”

He stiffened, a guilty flush crawling up the back of his neck.

“Uh. Snotlout’s fixing it.” he lied.

Cassian squinted, but sighed and dug out his old spare mantle instead. Foxglove scrambled back into his arms as he returned, burying her face in the cloth with a giddy warble. He got himself ready in turn, and was keenly aware of the hatchling watching the whole time. Her gold eyes were far too intelligent for a baby, he could _see_ the gears turning in her head. She sneezed, a wet and squeaky sound, and he abandoned that thought to help wipe her poor snout clean again.

So, they went to the smithy and he relished the surprised looks along the way, especially from Gothi. Of _course_ the hatchling had survived, they all didn't have to be so dour. Foxglove peeped at everything, everyone as they walked, wrapping her strange forelegs around Cassian’s neck. It must've pinched terribly, but he made no complaint. When they finally ducked inside, Hiccup and Gobber were hard at work over red-hot iron while Valka picked apart the straps of Hiccup’s breastplate and they all slowed to a stop, staring at the noisy hatchling. He crossed his arms with a small, smug smile, but _tenderness_ creased around Valka’s eyes and Hiccup’s shoulders slumped with relief. Cassian set Foxglove down on the table, unwrapping the mantle from where it stuck to her spiky legs. She took a few wobbly steps, walking on the knuckles of her mantis-claws with her knobbly elbows sticking out, then she trained her eyes on Valka. She toddled over to sniff the hand offered to her, and dismissively sneezed all over it. Valka squawked in disgust and Foxglove scampered back to Cassian, and they both desperately tried not to laugh as she clambered up to his shoulders.

“Fine, I was _wrong.”_ Valka groused, scrubbing her hand clean.

He said nothing. There was no need.

“But, _you're_ alright?” Hiccup asked.

“Yes, just a little sore.” Cassian shrugged under Foxglove’s sprawling limbs.

“Any other news?” he asked in turn.

“None yet, and the new shift just left. But, Snotlout was looking for you. He was annoyed so it's probably not important.” Hiccup waved a dismissive hand.

Snotlout- Thor, was he finally done? He fidgeted, glancing towards the door.

“I'll just… go check on him. Be right back!” he blurted, ignoring curious stares.

As soon as he was out of sight, he sprinted to Snotlout’s house, high over the cliffs. He _hated_ the walk up here. The Jorgensens just _had_ to be the most puffed-up, self-important boneheads on this island and build their house so damn far out of the way. Hookfang greeted him with a sleepy belch from the roof, and angry muttering from within told him well enough that Snotlout was home. He dared to knock, but only twice, lest something _explode._

“That better not be Hiccup!” Snotlout finally snapped.

“It's not.” he huffed.

The door flew open and he was dragged inside by the collar.

 _“Finally._ Cassian’s been bugging me about the coat for almost two _weeks_ , are you satisfied yet?” Snotlout shoved him into the workshop, to a clothform in the corner.

He stumbled and stared. It was _perfect._ The scales started in a neat, almost natural pattern at the shoulders that scattered towards the ends of the sleeves and down the body of the coat, all blue and violet and gold. The whole of it was lined in fleece, cut so the front flaps covered each other snugly, held shut with toggles and loops. The silvered-black fur collar lay over it all, it would frame Cassian’s face so _nicely…_

“Good? Good, now get it out of here, I'm sick of looking at it…” Snotlout muttered.

He stomped over, stripped the coat off the frame and unceremoniously shoved it into his arms. It was _heavy_ for it's size, with all it's cloth and fleece, but he folded it over one arm, carefully arranged so the scales wouldn't pinch.

“Snotlout?”

The man stopped at his desk, but didn't look up.

“Thank you.”

***

It wasn't like Eret to just run off… He must be planning something. So, Cassian stayed put, humoring the curious onlookers as they passed by, drawn by the rumors of a new hatchling. Mrs. Thrak even brought a bowl of small baitfish by, which Foxglove gladly swallowed whole, begging with an open mouth like a baby bird. They couldn't risk her getting sick, not now, so she only got a few fish at a time. But otherwise she seemed content to watch the activity all around her with growing awareness and unsettling intelligence. When she wasn't focused on everything else, she looked to him with sleepy eyes, blinking slow, catlike, and dare he think it, _loving._ She must know he saved her, as surely as any human would. Dragons were plenty smart after all, but she was different, like Toothless in a way. Deeply _aware._

After a time he had encouraged her down to the table from his shoulder to get his mantle off. It was starting to throttle him and it was so much rougher than the one Foxglove had claimed. Then the light from the doorway shifted and before he could turn, something heavy settled over his shoulders, smoothed into place by scarred, slender hands. Familiar, frosted black fur gathered around his throat, but it wasn't Eret’s cloak. Not anymore. The leather guards on the shoulders, thickly embroidered Nadder scales and quills, black wool and soft-brushed fleece… He sniffled, and Foxglove mewled in concern but he ignored her long enough to shove his arms through the sleeves and throw himself against Eret’s chest. He didn't much care that they weren't alone either, but that needed to be remedied _very_ quickly. He growled under his breath, scooped Foxglove up onto his shoulder, and dragged Eret out by the hand.

_‘Randy young bucks.’ Gobber scoffed._

_‘GOBBER!’_

He set Foxglove down _gently_ on the table, too impatient for the stairs and whirled on Eret as he closed the door. They met halfway, Eret pulled him in, held him close like it was second nature, leaned into his touch and stared down with dark, _wanting_ eyes-

Cassian swallowed hard. His blood _burned_ and he'd never felt this pull so strongly, a thirst he couldn't slake, a hunger that defied any satisfaction- _Mercy,_ it was the stuff of poetry, no wonder men drove themselves mad with it. And he'd deny himself that satisfaction no longer.

 _“Please.”_ he rasped, hands slipping to Eret's shoulders, “Can I kiss you?”

A small sound broke past Eret’s lips, like he'd been punched in the gut.

 _“Finally_ you ask.” he managed to quip.

He corded a hand through Eret’s hair, dragged him down and sealed their mouths together in a searing kiss. Sure he nearly missed but he couldn't breathe, he didn't _want_ to and he was burning from the inside out. Eret's lips were so _soft,_ yielding and challenging in turns as they tested each other, moving against his own like he was murmuring a prayer, and the _sounds_. Sweet mercy how he _moaned_ , so deep in his chest it felt like thunder all around him, desperate and heady and intoxicating as wine. He let go only long enough to start working his arms out of the coat, which Eret so kindly helped with, tossing it over the table and chasing after his mouth when he broke for air. He tugged at the cord that held Eret’s hair back, perhaps _too_ roughly, but he could finally rake his hands through those silken black strands and pull him back again for more. A moan, almost a _growl_ rumbled through Eret’s chest and without warning, he scooped Cassian right off his feet, hauling him upwards with an iron grip under his thighs. He could be ashamed later of the sound that ripped through him, utterly _feral_ with want, but one thought struck through the fog of lust.

It was barely noon, the walls weren't so very thick, and _anyone_ passing by could hear them. He froze, gasping for breath with his heart pounding in his ears and watched the same realization dawn on Eret’s face. His eyes flicked to the door, the window, then back as he struggled to form words, now that passion had stolen their sense. It was increasingly obvious why, given where all his blood had rushed, trapped hot as an iron rod between them... not that he was any better himself of course. Eret slowly set him back down, and they both shuddered at the resulting friction.

“Now- might not be a good time.” Eret finally said, voice rough and ragged, kiss-drunk and _beautiful_. And mercy, his _mouth,_ bruised red as pomegranate wine _all because of him-_

He nodded, still dizzy with desire and it took a monumental effort not to rut against Eret’s thigh. A desperate squeak from the table cut through the haze, and they both looked to find Foxglove buried under the bulk of the coat. He drew a bracing breath and kissed Eret once more, chaste and sweet, fingers just barely brushing over his jaw.

“I _want_ to.” he rumbled, and Eret shivered, kissed him again, “But… now is not good.”

“Yeah…”

A few more kisses, each meant to be the last, were finally brought to a halt by another, more emphatic squeak. Reluctantly, Cassian came to her rescue. She shook herself, glowered, and admonished him with a wet, phlegmy cough.

“Yes, I'm sorry my dear…” he chuckled, scratching her chin.

Apology accepted, she ambled over the resettled coat and curled up to nap.

There was work that needed doing, so they busied themselves around the house until their blood cooled and they could rightly show themselves in public. Toothless probably had the newcomers settled in by now, but there was still that dragon he didn't recognize… Hiccup might know, or Fishlegs. If only he had seen it more _clearly._ Foxglove didn't stir an inch as he scooted her aside to don his coat, or when he gathered her up and bid his farewells with a kiss. God, he almost, _almost_ regretted waiting for so long. To think they'd been missing out on _this..._

He made his way back to the smithy for his mantles since Foxglove needed the warmth. Maybe they could make a sling? Valka might have an idea, and his luck held when Toothless sailed by, wobbling and landing in a rush when he waved.

“Just the Fury I was looking for! I'm trying to find one of the dragons from-” he paused when Toothless _kept_ coming closer.

Then bowed his head, pressing the whole of it against his chest. The dragon sighed, trailing to a pained _keen._ What was wrong?!

“Toothless, what happened? Please, show me!” he pulled, trying to draw his head up,

The Fury keened again, but moved at his insistence and brushed his nose against his right shoulder. _Oh._ He gently scratched down the dragon’s brow and shifted Foxglove into the crook of his other arm.

“I will be fine, there's not even a bruise. You're both the leaders of Berk, when we must it is just as much our job to protect _you._ I would never regret taking an arrow for the people who gave me a new life.” he offered a watery smile.

Toothless rolled under his hand, only relenting after a few more pats and scratches.

“There _was_ something bothering me, that strange dragon in the cages last night. I haven't seen it since we landed, and I didn't get a good look before that either. It could still have a muzzle on, or be hurt…” he knew the dragon would understand.

And Toothless did. He squinted, auricles flicking as he scanned the sky, thinking, remembering… With a suspicious rumble, he shot up and out to the mountains. Why there?Well, he just had to trust that a dragon would know best how to find a dragon.

In the smithy and with a little help from Valka, he turned his older mantle into a sling to carry the still-sleeping Foxglove on his back, cradled just-right with her head draped over his shoulder. Tyrian arrived, probably fresh from breakfast, and he'd just started to unload the latest batch of glass from the cooling cave when Toothless returned in a rush, hooting an alarm.

Hiccup jolted, “What-”

“He must've found the dragon! The dark one from last night!” he absently pocketed a glass orb, that could get delivered later.

“Dark-” confusion turned to horror, “We counted 10 dragons on the flight home, but only saw to _nine.”_

They shared a look and Hiccup grabbed his strong shears for the muzzle that would surely still be on the poor beast. They ran to their respective dragons and Toothless lead the way deep into the mountain crags, stopping before a narrow cave. Something inside growled, a sickly, muffled, wet sound, even when Toothless crooned pleadingly to it. He eased to the ground, creeping closer.

“Wait, we don't know what it is-” Hiccup hissed.

“It may not _have_ more time chief.” he said firmly.

With that, he slipped into the mountain. The strangled growl only intensified as he squinted in the darkness, crouching low and sliding forward one step at a time. It _was_ muzzled still, he wasn't in much danger from fire. He hoped.

“Shh, I won't hurt you.” he murmured, easier further in, “I'm a friend, we can _help_ you.”

A shadow shifted, snarled wetly and something molten-bright splattered over the cavern floor. It cooled quickly, fading to orange then honey-gold, familiar as it crackled and solidified. The dragon could spit _molten glass._ Excitement lanced through him like lightning. There were lava-spitters, acid, poison, amber, water, but never had he heard of dragons that could make _glass._ But it was terrified, he could see it's eyes glinting in the dark, boring into him.

“We aren't so different you and me, I shape glass too. Can't melt it myself of course. Here, take a look.”

He removed the glass sphere from his pocket and very carefully rolled it across the floor towards the dragon’s feet. The weak snarls stuttered to a stop as the sphere tinked, eventually bouncing off it's leg but before it could roll away, a paw came down upon it. The dragon sniffed and snuffled, that was a good sign…

“Okay, I'm going to come a little closer now. Let's get that thing off. You must be so hungry, up here all night, all alone…”

He slid another step and the dragon keened, with his vision adjusting he could see it cowering.

“I know. You're hurt, you're scared, far from home and your family… And you've been hurt by men. But we are _not_ like them. Please, let me help you.”

He froze there, hand outstretched, but the dragon only hunched deeper on itself, head bowed- Something atop it's head glinted in the light, a _buckle._ He took a slow breath, darted in and seized the strap, yanking the buckle open as the dragon surged under him, darting for the exit with Cassian draped over it's face. He topped to the side, dragging the muzzle off as he fell on his rear and the dragon was pulled to a stop with an awkward yelp as the leather caught on something. The dragon shook it's head and the muzzle came away, and it could finally flex and stretch it's sore jaw. It looked back, chest heaving.

“I'm sorry, but we needed to get that off. Better, yeah?” he huffed a bewildered laugh.

The dragon yawned and started licking one paw, whimpering after every stroke of it's tongue. The coppery scent of blood tinged the air.

“Are you hurt? Here, let's get into the light, get a better look…” he rose slowly to his feet.

The dragon keened, and he threw the limp muzzle away in disgust. That seemed to console it, enough for him to safely coax it forward to the mouth of the cave, though it limped with every step. Toothless and Tyrian peeked around the corners as they approached, and the clouds shifted, bringing the sun back in full force. Cassian was dazzled, he couldn't really see the dragon leaning against him-

But Toothless warbled in confusion and shock.

He squinted against the sun, and had to take a step back in equal surprise. It wasn't a _Night Fury_ no, but it was close, with a similar shape and build, though smaller and likely younger. It had a little curved horn on it's armored nose, two pairs of the same fleshy earflaps and a cluster of longer tassels along it's jaw, and strangely a pair of smooth striped horns behind the largest ear flaps. It was armored down it's belly and back, mottled warm brown and steely blue all over, and it looked to them all with fearful golden eyes. Cassian finally forced himself to look at it's injury and sucked in a sharp, furious breath. A braided wire cable twisted around it's leg, so tight it cut into the dragon’s flesh and fresh blood welled around it, dripping down it's paw. 

“Hiccup, the shears-” he croaked, grabbing them as quickly as they were offered.

The dragon whined as he knelt, but Toothless thrummed his assurance. He couldn't risk cutting the dragon going after the snare-loop, it was just too deeply embedded. Instead he prised at the coiled knot, pulling it apart with the shears, cutting where he could until he finally found the tether point. He picked at it until his fingers were raw and nails torn, but he was so _close._ With one last snip the snare was broken, but he still had to pull it free of scales and skin and his hands shook as he tried not to gag at the sight. He threw the cable away, breathing hard through his teeth and tried to ignore the dragon’s blood cooling on his hands.

“He’s- he’ll be alright now.” he said, more to himself as the dragon licked it's wound.

“As long as we keep an eye on that paw…” Hiccup muttered, jotting down notes in his book.

Toothless slunk over, sniffing politely and greeting the other with a bright chirp, and the stranger was just as curious about _him._ They circled each other, round and round, thrumming back and forth until Toothless bounded towards the cliff, pointing out Berk in the distance. The dragon considered him a moment then retreated to the cave, returning with the glass sphere delicately held in it's jaws. Before either rider could stop them, Toothless fixed his tail fin and took off with the stranger in close pursuit. Hiccup threw back his head with a long-suffering groan.

“Looks like I'll need a ride back.” he huffed, “But was that one of your glass things in it's mouth?”

“Yes, it spits molten glass- or, it tried to anyway, in the cave. I thought something familiar would keep it calm, or distract it enough to get the muzzle off. And it worked!” he laughed, and waved Tyrian over.

Hiccup hummed in agreement and they started the awkward shuffle of trying to fit two on a saddle for one. Foxglove, somehow still asleep, had to sling across Cassian’s chest instead to make room behind him. Tyrian bobbed along in the breeze after the other dragons and he took the time to mull over a name. It was a glass maker, melting sand deep inside itself…

 _Crucible,_ that was perfect.

Hiccup and Fishlegs settled on calling him a Glass Wraith, at their best guess they were a relation to the _Sand_ Wraith. Until they found more, they could only guess that Crucible was male, though Fishlegs was quick to remind them that you couldn’t always know for sure until you saw it lay eggs _._ But, there was no harm either way, and the Wraith made himself quite at home around the forge.

The scouts returned, sooner than expected. _Too_ soon. There was a fleet- no, a proper armada on the way, a dozen ships with no less than a hundred cages. It was a ways off still, moving slow with how heavily they were burdened, but in a matter of days they would be within an hour’s flight from Berk. They had to prepare, _every_ fighter they had would be needed for what would surely be the biggest raid they would ever make.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thanks to Trookay for letting me use their Glassware Wraith species!


	9. Chapter 9

The armada must’ve timed this deliberately. So close to Midsummer there was no more than an hour of real darkness, so stealth wasn't even an option. This would have to be a full-frontal assault, no sense trying otherwise. Take out the ships’ weapons first, then send in the landing teams to free the dragons, maybe chuck the cages overboard for good measure. _That_ might entertain a fish or two. Teams would start at the outermost boats, and work their way in to the flagship, an ugly, boxy, hulking thing. That way, they could concentrate the whole force on it at once, to minimize the risks to themselves. They would bring extra dragons too, to carry out the inevitable injured. They had two days to prepare, drill, mend armor and sharpen weapons, and they could only hope there would be no surprises. 

Eret breathed deep to settle his nerves, buckling a greave as Cassian finished lacing his undersuit. He didn't want Cass to be throwing himself out there so soon, but they didn't have a choice. This was just too big and he had already proven himself. At least they were paired on the assault team, against one of the smaller boats to start. 

“I can _hear_ you thinking.” Cassian said softly, pausing his work to rub his neck.

He leaned into the touch, shoulders slumping, “Can't help it. This is gonna be a hard fight, we may have to break into the hold of the flagship… _Please-”_

He took Cassian’s hands, folding them in his.

“Please, don't rush ahead. Stay close, I can't-”

 _“Eret.”_ Cassian said firmly, “I'm not going anywhere. I am _not_ leaving your side. Not now, not ever.”

He welcomed the kiss that followed, pulling Cassian closer, breathing him in… They couldn't get carried away, there would be time later.

“Come on, let's get you laced up.”

“Hmm, if you _must.”_ he purred.

_“Cass-”_

Gothi would look after Foxglove, but Cassian still let her go only with extreme reluctance. With their chieftains leading the way, dozens of riders and dragons took to the sky, streaming west. They climbed high above the perfectly-low and thin clouds, where Hiccup and the occasional scout kept them on course. He shook with nerves, until even Skullcrusher had to rumble and look back at him. He muttered a faint _‘I'm fine’,_ which the dragon probably couldn't hear. Oh well, he got the point.

After almost an hour the fleet was finally in range, so the teams peeled off into 12 separate flocks and on the mark of a scout, they dropped from the sky like a bolt from the gods. The smaller ships clustered like ticks around the main freighter, as close as they dared in the pitching sea, but they were far enough away that they couldn't come to each other’s aid even if they were given the chance. From straight up the trappers' weapons were useless, and the sharpshooters were free to take them out at a distance. Gronckles and Scuttleclaws shattered net-launchers and ballistas, and the Nadders and Nightmares swept in next to burn away sails and rigging. The Zipplebacks went last to clear the decks with a gaseous cloud, and the blasts would burn all the way down to the holds. Then the _raiders_ were free to board. He hit the deck after Skullcrusher swept half a dozen sooty trappers overboard and Cassian was right behind him, though Tyrian winged away for the lack of space. They threw open cages one by one, and Toothless’s ethereal glow called every dragon able into the air. He waved down a passing Thunderclaw to get a Nadder with a broken wing off the ship, then pulled Cassian along to get back in the fray on Skullcrusher. Tyrian must’ve been distracted…

They landed hard on the next ship, bigger and uglier with more cages stacked high and deep, so they had to muster whatever they could to toss empty cages overboard to get at the rest. They took turns guarding each other, opening cages and directing the efforts of man and dragon alike, until that ship too was clear. Skullcrusher swung by once more and still, no Tyrian. Where _was_ he? He could feel Cassian getting more worried, like a second sense. They rose higher to scan the surrounding ships and found, with immense satisfaction, the rest were empty and the final assault on the flagship had begun. Trappers scattered like roaches, trying at once to drive them off and put out the ever-increasing fires, but they had the able fighters outnumbered two to one. Now, the flagship… it _must_ have a bigger hold than the rest, and room for cages below. Skullcrusher wheeled to the back, around the stern, and from the depths of the hold he could hear the panicked screams of dragons, _dozens_ of them. A titanic iron gate covered the open back of the hold, for easy unloading no doubt, held up by massive winches on the _outside-_

“Crush, there!” he snapped.

Skullcrusher snarled, hurling a bolt that yielded a measured blast, enough to blow the mechanism clean off. Wood snapped, metal screamed, and even he had to wince in pain, there was no way to cover his ears against the din. They circled wide to destroy the other but Toothless beat them to it, Careening overhead as indigo plasma crawled up the sides of the ship to burn away even more rope and rigging. Dragons scattered as the gate fell, so hard it almost snapped off and dragged the back of the ship under. The men up on the deck proper were thrown off their feet from the force, and Berkians streamed in from all sides. This was going perfectly, better than he could've hoped _,_ they'd be done soon enough and on their way home. Just a little more. Skullcrusher brought them in as close as he could, enough to hop off and scurry the rest of the way in along a broken beam before he winged away to make room for more. It was still dangerous inside, and he steadied Cassian through the pitching of the ship with a solid arm over his shoulders. For a moment at least. When a trapper charged their way he just stepped to the side, shoving the man out into the ocean.

“The cages!” he barked.

There had to be almost 40 down here, maybe more, packed so tight they needed to push each layer overboard once they were emptied. The greased rails and dragonpower made quick enough work of them, and some of the newly-freed prisoners were more than happy to help. Dragons streamed skyward, but he noted with growing confusion he just _didn't recognize_ almost half of them, and even more he'd never seen in person. Razorwhips, Deathsongs, a young Typhoomerang, Flightmares and Sand Wraiths… Where the hell were all these dragons coming from? He and Cassian made one last sweep, checking under tarps and behind barrels, as far as they could go without getting into crew quarters. 

“That's it! Everybody out!” he ordered.

With Cassian at his side they mounted Skullcrusher again, falling in with the flock peeling away in every direction for one last survey of the mess they'd made of the armada. What wasn't burning was blackened, decks were bare of cargo and captives, but… He scanned the sky, heart clenching. There was still no sign of Tyrian, and Cassian's arms tightened around him.

“I haven't seen him!” a stricken shout reached his ear.

“I haven't either-”

A shriek of pain cut through the roar of battle and fire from just above, the deck of the flagship _. No, no nonono-_ Skullcrusher wheeled hard, wings thrashing for altitude as he bellowed thunder, fighting the wind until hey crested the rails and found exactly what they feared: Tyrian, thrashing on the center deck, half-strangled by chains. He watched, breathless, helpless, and the world ground to slow motion as an axe fell, cleaving into the Nadder’s leg and the dragon threw back his head and howled a long, shrill cry that sent the trappers staggering. Before he could even move, twitch, _think_ to intervene, or Skullcrusher could land, Cassian was gone from the saddle and driving a knife into the neck of the closest trapper. He moved like a shadow, faster than thought, knives slipping under arms and between ribs and around throats, until only the man that dealt the blow was left standing. Eret couldn't breathe, and almost fell of Skullcrusher’s back in his haste to get off, to catch up, he couldn't let anything happen-

“The riders don't kill!” the trapper squealed, stumbling back as Cassian advanced, “Those Berkians-”

 _“I am not of Berk.”_ Cassian snarled, voice booming inside his helm.

He pushed back his face plate, and the trapper was struck dumb with terror.

“And you will die _screaming.”_

The man could only babble senselessly, floundering until his feet tangled in the chains and he fell, head striking a barrel as he dropped like a stone. He went still. Eret slowly pulled Cassian back by one hand, grip growing firmer as he resisted.

“Cass, it's done. We need to get out of here.” he squeezed, more gently.

Cassian still shook with his fury, hot tears streaking down his face, and he finally nodded once. He first stooped to wipe his knives clean on a trapper’s cloak, but the man twitched. Before he could lift a finger the once-dead trapper lunged with a dagger and Cassian shifted, barely enough to let it pass him by. The blade still skimmed his cheek, just under his eye but he retaliated in kind, slamming his fist into the trapper’s nose. The man flopped back, gurgling weakly. Panting, Cassian sheathed his knives, rushing to throw the chains off his dragon’s body, ignoring the blood washing down his cheek and jaw. Tyrian trembled, whimpering even with Skullcrusher nuzzling him, urging him to his feet. Still shaking from shock, Eret helped as best he could. He could see _bone_ through the wound, it would be a miracle if it wasn't broken. After a thought, he cut a strip off one of the trapper’s cloaks, and tied it tight around the gash. It wouldn't be much, but it was _something_ until they got home. Tyrian couldn't even put weight on that leg when he could bear to stand, croaking so weakly, a broken, imploring sound as they stepped away.

“Come on lad, time to go home, you- you'll be _fine.”_ he said weakly, trying not to gag at the stench of blood, “Cass, ride with me. We can't strain him.”

Cassian said nothing, climbing up behind him as Skullcrusher thrummed encouragement to Tyrian, who barely managed to hobble, wings fluttering as he tried to build speed. The Nadder labored into the air, wobbling badly even in Skullcrusher’s wake and his leg hung limp, blood dripping from his claws to the sea below. Cassian squeezed tight around his middle as they rose, little by little, and the wind did nothing to hide his broken sobs, wrenching and shuddering against his back, and Eret couldn't fight his own tears that burned down to his core. This was _Tyrian,_ they couldn't lose him. Dragons were strong, but not indestructible, they needed to get him help _fast._

But, they were not fast. For Tyrian’s sake they lagged behind the massive flock, further and further until Astrid and Stormfly circled back to see what the problem could possibly be. At the scent of blood Stormfly shrieked, nearly bucking her rider and Tyrian warbled for his mother, a weak and pleading cry that broke his heart all the more because they couldn't _do_ anything. They didn't say a word, and Eret wasn't sure he even could. Astrid soothed her dragon, though that didn't seem to help, and shot back to the head of the pack, to Toothless and Hiccup. At least they could prepare, make space for when they finally caught up... He had to have hope, catch it like a slim, runaway thread, because _Cass_ needed him.

When Berk was finally in view, the whole flock had already landed and been ushered away, to healers and helpers and shelter and food. But Tyrian barely had the strength to keep high enough to crest the edge of the hangar tunnel. He crashed just beyond the mouth onto the timber runway, scattering vikings and dragons that were still filtering in and Cassian didn't even wait for Skullcrusher to land, dropping down and bolting to his dragon’s side.

“No, you have to get up!” he wailed, throwing his shoulder under Tyrian’s neck, trying to haul him to his feet, “ _Please,_ you can't-”

He collapsed under the dragon’s weight, sobbing so hard his armor rattled and tears washed blood down his face, dripping over the dragon’s scales. Tyrian could only gurgle weakly between labored breaths as the crowd scattered, almost making a wall between them. He snarled and elbowed his way forward, Cass _needed_ him-

“Snotlout, Fishlegs, let's get him to the healers!” Hiccup shouted, pushing his way through to the Nadder, “Cassian, you need to move, he can't get there on his own-”

Hiccup tried to pull him away, but Cassian let out a _scream_ so primal and wounded he flinched back like he'd been struck. Eret broke free of the wall of bodies and rushed over, heart in his throat as he met the chief's eyes, and Hiccup nodded once.

“Cass, they can't help him here, and you can't carry him. You have to move-”

He hardly got a hand on him when Cassian turned, throwing weak arms around his neck and sobbing into his shoulder. It took a little shifting, coaxing, tiny murmurs of assurance, but soon enough he scooped Cass up and rose to his feet, backing away to let Hookfang and two Gronckles closer. They managed to load Tyrian in a net and carry him off to the makeshift infirmary, down a tunnel and out of sight. He- he would be okay. The murmurs of the crowd started again in earnest, but stopped just as quickly when he powered his way through to the spiral stairs back to the village. It was a precarious walk, but he didn't care. Cass needed to get out of all of this, they both did. Get some rest, clean that wound, have a moment to collect himself… Once the healers were done there'd be no getting him away from that dragon.

He shut his door against prying eyes and set Cassian down before the hearth, unclasping the helm for him. His eyes were red, swollen almost shut- Eret yanked off his own helmet, pulling in a deep, shuddering breath to fight off the burn of more tears. There'd be time for that later.

“He's gonna be _okay_ Cass, he's just in shock. They'll bandage him up, once he gets a little rest I- I'm sure he’ll be okay.” he said haltingly.

Cassian made no sound, throat bobbing as his lips parted then sealed tight again.

“Let's get out of all this, by the time you're cleaned up I'm sure they'll have Tyrian all settled in. Think you can hold on for me?” he gently scratched his fingers up Cassian’s neck, through his hair, until he gave a little nod, “Buckles then, help me out.”

They worked the belts open one by one and he pulled the breastplate over and off to hang on it's stand, removing his own while Cassian handled the bracers, boots… Undersuits off, turned out to dry, a quick cold wash… He took special care dabbing Cassian’s face clean, with warm water and the cleanest rag they had left. Blood had streaked all the way down to his chest, over his _heart_ , but the cut itself was finally scabbing over. It was deeper than he first thought, so terribly close to his right eye… _Too_ close, always too close. By the end of it Cassian didn't have the strength to keep his head up, and didn't protest getting carried upstairs or tucked into bed. He pulled the blankets high around them both and dragged Cass closer, enveloping him completely as he trembled, cold, he was so _cold._

“No matter what happens, I'm here.” he whispered, voice raw, “I'm _here_ Cass...”

***

He did not want to wake, and he did not want to sleep, but the dragons needed them. He felt like death and probably looked no better, but Eret still kissed him when he roused, and that warmth… It was almost enough to get his heart beating again. But his stomach still roiled too much for anything but a few sips of water while he dressed with leaden bones and fingers of ice, with hardly the will to even tie a knot. He would have left without his _coat_ if Eret hadn’t practically forced it on him. Foxglove… they had to get Foxglove first, and Gothi was more than happy to be rid of her. He bundled the hatchling in her blanket and shuffled through town to the spiral stairs, hardly noticing the hatchling whining with concern while she sniffed his sore cheek or Crucible trailing behind them. He stumbled on the first few stairs and welcomed Eret’s steadying grip on his hand. He just couldn't _focus_ on anything, it all felt like a dream. 

The hangar was frantic with activity after the flood of injured dragons, there would be broken bones to splint and wounds to bandage… There were many stations for healers, so many, _too_ many, and Cassian looked around frantically, going from stall to stall until someone pointed them towards a deeper, quieter wing. The tunnel opened to a wide chamber, barely lit with lanterns, round and high and quiet. Low walls divided the perimeter of the room into stalls for hay-lined beds, originally for nests but they'd been taken over by the wounded. He scanned the stalls one by one, heart in his throat-

_There._

A weak sob left him, drawing another chirp of concern from Foxglove. He dropped Eret’s hand, crossing the room as fast as he dared, weaving between the healers and dragons. Tyrian lay sprawled over the top of a nest, his wound bandaged and splinted for good measure and he was _breathing,_ slow and deep. He scrambled into the nest-bowl, forcing under Tyrian’s head until the Nadder was more comfortably cushioned over his lap and Foxglove flopped over his brow, purring sweetly as she rubbed her chin over his scales. All the commotion was enough to rouse Tyrian and he cracked one eye open, croaking low. Then he sniffed, drew in Cassian’s scent and _thrilled,_ lifting his head enough to nuzzle into his chest, sniff the cut on his cheek… A warm tickle crawled over his skin, and he swiped at it. Blood stained his fingertips, and Tyrian keened. The scabs must've broken… It was nothing, not when he had his dragon to worry about.

“Yes, I'm here-” he choked between sobs and laughter, relief leaving him weak, _“I'm here.”_

He scratched Tyrian everywhere he could reach, sniffling despite his smile. Eret joined them, pulling over a stool to sit at his side, close enough to reach over and dab gently at his cheek with a cloth… that he must've taken with him. Of _course_ he would. Crucible climbed around and behind them all to flop over the back edge of the nest, laying his head on Tyrian’s shoulder to croon some encouragement, which was more than he'd ever seen the Wraith interact with another dragon.

“See? He just needs some rest.” Eret said, draping an arm over his shoulders.

He could only nod, sniffling again as he leaned into Eret’s side, silently running through every prayer of thanks he could remember. Silent, out loud and prostrate, did it really matter? He didn't think so any more, and hadn't for a long while. A prayer was a prayer, and it would be seen for what it was. 

They stayed there through the afternoon and into the bright evening, with Eret occasionally taking a break to get food and water. After several hours Cassian had to extricate himself to stretch and take care of other business, but Crucible and Foxglove kept Tyrian company. There were dozens of other injured dragons in the nursery to tend to, and he may as well help if he was here. He recognized the green-gold Nadder with the broken wing from their first boat, and found a trio of sickly young Snow Wraiths all piled together, and in their neighboring stall a Sand Wraith with a splinted tail peered over the dividing wall at… Crucible? Across the room was a Snafflefang with a snare wound, a young Deathsong with a broken leg-

He stopped short, almost crashing into a healer.

The stall on Tyrian’s _other_ side was occupied by a tiny, shimmering dragon, flopped bonelessly over the hay. If Crucible was only similar to Toothless, this dragon was damn near identical, save for the color. It had the same long wings, hip-fins, tail-flukes, ear-flaps… the proportions were a little different, it's silhouette a little more streamlined, snout more catlike and square, and he found himself moving closer, kneeling before the nest. It's scales were round like coins and pearlescent, glowing like gilt in the lanternlight as it shifted, burbling until it yawned wide, baring needle-sharp teeth. It blinked ghostly-blue eyes, looked to him, then yelped in surprise and leapt to it's feet. It stared and stared, leaning forward as he did to freeze nose to nose, face wrinkling as it sniffed him all over. Then it crooned, relaxed, and stood up on it's back legs to flick at his hair with a delicate paw. Cassian could only chuckle, offering a hand to steady it as it wobbled-

His smile fell.

Angry red marks wrapped around it's neck, raw and bare of scales but not quite bleeding.

“Oh, little one, not you _too.”_ he frowned, lips pressed thin.

The dragon thrilled, tilting it's head.

“You don't even mind much, do you?” he mused, “You know you're safe here, and you _will_ be _._ We defend our own on Berk, to the last man and dragon. No trappers, no warlords…”

He let out a shaky sigh and the dragon snorted. With a few flaps of it's wings, the dragon clawed up to flop over his shoulder, forcing him to hold it there. The hatchling was very nearly as long as he was tall and perhaps a _little_ lighter than it appeared, but that was still heavy enough to almost knock him flat.

“I _would_ say I'm not surprised, but… she hasn't been too keen on anyone so far.”

“Hiccup!” he wheezed, trailing to a squawk as the dragon nearly stuck it's foot in his mouth, “You are very sweet dearest, but also _heavy!_ Have mercy on me-”

Hiccup chuckled as he staggered upright and turned, balancing the hatchling over his shoulders with it's long tail wrapped around his neck.

 _“There_ little cat, are you satisfied?” he grumbled.

The dragon sneezed, and tucked under his chin.

“We’ve been calling her a Light Fury, for obvious reasons. We… didn't know there _were_ others.” Hiccup sighed, and looked to the next stall, “But, he- Tyrian, his leg… The wound was deep. He should recover, but he may not be fit for battle any time soon, if _ever._ He’ll fly just fine, but raids, whatever battles are coming… He wouldn't be safe.”

He eased down on a bench, brows creased deeply and Cassian’s heart seized. 

“What have you found?” he finally asked.

“Just a suspicion. A feeling.” Hiccup looked around the room, frowning, “It's not like trappers to travel in force, they don't like competition. That freighter had dragons from all over the map, some we’ve never _seen_ before. I think they were abandoning a base, some sort of camp or market and moving to another. We’ll follow the ships that survived to wherever they're going and try to find where they came from, because they were making every effort to get there with those dragons. If there is some sort of central base where they've all been trying to go, we may just be able to drive them out of the archipelago for _good._ They're at the end of their rope, _desperate._ I think the tides are finally turning.”

The chief looked back, determined but still hopeful.

“You don't need to _replace_ Tyrian, he's not going anywhere. But whatever’s coming, you’ll need to be ready to ride. Not today, not tomorrow… but soon.”

He nodded, unable to look Hiccup in the eye. He'd feared as much, but… as long as Tyrian, his _friend,_ survived? He didn't care what he had to do, he would protect this place and everything in it. With help and great reluctance, he removed Tyrian’s saddle and took it home, leaving all but Foxglove to keep the Nadder company. There was armor to repair, muzzles to remove, new dragons to track down and document… he would return when the day was done.

They counted 12 new species from this raid alone, including the Light Fury. One pair was even a match for the dragon he had spotted in the mountains all that time ago. They were just as colorful as he remembered, with foxlike faces and spiked eye-crests, gracile in body and limb, and _obtrusively_ curious. Their constant melodic howling earned them the name Windwolf. Another bore all the colors of the rainbow over it's broad wings and tail fins, though the rest of it was a soft mottled grey that flushed steel-blue up the spiny crests that ran from nose to tail. It's front teeth were permanently bared by strange, flanged lips, but it's eyes were bright and kind as it teased both children and hatchlings with the tassels at it's throat. But the biggest of them all was known to Berk only by name, the Crimson Goregutter. It towered over most buildings, regal in purple and orange and cream, but it's stately indifference dropped in an instant when dozens of hatchlings flocked to it's feet.

By some miracle no one else was injured, at least no more than bumps and bruises. Tyrian and the other dragons were all they had to worry about. Cassian hefted a basket of fish, marching towards the stairs where he nearly pitched ass-over-teakettle when something landed hard on his shoulder and _then_ almost dropped the fish as he flailed for balance. He glowered at the little creature, but it peeped so sweetly he couldn't stay angry, especially not when it nuzzled his cheek just under the wound.

“Oh, there's the Prickleboggle! We’ve been looking all over for it!”

Fishlegs sprinted over and Foxglove gurgled in annoyance from her sling.

“Don't be _rude_ dearest.” he scolded, shifting his load, “Well if you need it, be my guest. What is it with hatchlings today-”

“Actually, this one’s fully grown! It's very rare for them to get any bigger.” Fishlegs helpfully took the basket instead, “But, they're known for their healing abilities, so we were going to take it down here anyway.”

Cassian shrugged, and the copper-green dragon settled against his neck for the trek down. At the mouth of the nursery it perked, scented the air and shot off like lightning to the nearest dragon, the snared Snafflefang. The Prickleboggle inhaled deep and showered the wounds with a gentle mist that left the Snafflefang sighing in relief, bedding down deeper as the little healer moved on.

“The mist eases the pain, and helps prevent infection. It's a good thing we found it when we did, Hiccup saw this tiny cage under a tarp _right_ as we were leaving.” Fishlegs huffed, setting the basket down.

He could only smile faintly as he grabbed a few cod for his nest. He had to unwrap Tyrian’s wound for the Prickleboggle to work it's magic, and he couldn't bear to look at what had been done to him. With food and relief from the pain, Tyrian could sleep deeply and Cassian joined him, but not before the Prickleboggle coughed a little of that mist over his own cut. He curled up in the crook of the Nadder’s neck with his coat for a blanket, punching down the hay a little where it pricked him. Foxglove nosed under to cuddle against his chest and the Light Fury laid out over his back, purring like thunder. He sniffled, wiped a stray tear, and drifted to sleep.

He half-woke to find a real blanket draped over him and Eret slumped over the edge of the nest, fast asleep with his head pillowed in his arms. He turned over as much as he was able, and threaded their fingers together.

There was plenty of cleaning to do in the morning, if it even _was_ morning. It was almost impossible to tell with the sun only setting for minutes at a time. Midsummer was barely five days away and with no threats on the horizon they had every intention of celebrating with full fanfare. The scouts assured them the armada had floundered and they were struggling to get even one ship seaworthy, they wouldn't get anywhere at more than a limp and at that rate it would take _weeks_ to get anywhere Hiccup had yet to chart. Their old base had been found, gutted and utterly abandoned as they had suspected, but there were no other clues to be found. There would be time to heal and prepare for whatever retaliation the trappers might be able to muster, if they even had the strength or will after so many losses.

It was… perhaps ‘night’, evening maybe? He wasn't sure anymore, when Eret pulled him away from the decorating with a bucket of towels and their grooming supplies.

“What-”

“You need a break, and I know just the place. I'm not gonna let you run yourself ragged.” Eret squeezed his hand, pulling him closer.

He relented, following to climb up on Skullcrusher and off they went… to the mountains of the main island? Skullcrusher sniffed, tracking some scent deep into the ravines, the middle of nowhere really. They landed in a narrow pass and Eret led him on into an even narrower crag, too small for most dragons to follow but _especially_ Skullcrusher. Just when he was about to demand answers, the wind shifted and a wall of hot, moist air curled around them. Past one more boulder, he found the source. Wisps of steam billowed from a great crack in the mountain’s roots, like smoke from the nostrils of a dragon. This had to be a-

“A _hot spring.”_ he breathed.

“Ruin the surprise why don't you…” Eret pouted.

Ignoring him, Cassian rushed right past, already wiggling out of his coat. The mouth of the cave slanted down into the pass, so he had to duck under the lip of stone to get inside, slipping a little on the incline.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

The cave started as smooth stone, but the depths were filled with an ethereal light, unwavering and of many colors. He took a hesitant step in, then another, a gasp ripping from his throat as he looked _up._

And up.

The ceiling rose as far as he could see, all craggy rock where it wasn't encrusted in glowing mushrooms that cast the miracle light, almost equal to the _sun_.

“Your coat!” Eret breathed, just behind him.

He looked down and his jaw dropped. Rose and gold patterns blazed where there had been none before, utterly random on the mismatched scales and Eret’s vest reacted the same way, though it was just a faint green shimmer.

“What _is_ this place?” he murmured, wandering further in.

“No idea, it just seems to go on forever. It's too narrow to get any dragons in, so the Fireworms have the run of the place.” Eret gestured to the corner.

A faint golden glow scuttled across the floor, paused, then flitted into the air, flying a quick circuit around them both. It was a _dragon,_ no bigger than his hand and lit up like an ember. There were a few others hidden in the mushroom forest, when he looked long and hard.

“Now get yourself over there, the pools are in the back.” Eret gave him a little push.

“Yes, yes…” he huffed.

It was already warm in here, too much so for the coat, so he shucked it off quickly. There were plenty of rocks to leave their clothes on, so he picked one and pulled off his boots next, then paused with a handful of tunic. He was keenly aware of the eyes on his back, so he made a show of pulling the shirt over his head, rolling his shoulders, stretching long and languid. Eret’s breath hitched when he started tugging his trousers open, then just let them fall. They had seen each other bare, in part or whole, but it was different this time. They were so perfectly _alone._ No neighbors, no windows, no dragons. He shivered, but not from any chill. With a growing streak of confidence, he stepped out of his pants, pulled the tie from his hair, and eased into the pool one leg at a time. It was no deeper than his knees here, but the bottom rose and fell in every direction so he could choose whatever depth he pleased and it was _deliciously_ warm, and his skin prickled. A few herbs in the water, some nice soaps from Rome and oils from all over the Sea, and it would be just like- just like home. Wading in a little further to mid-thigh, he shivered again with anticipation when another splash broke the surface. He looked back, flushing molten-hot as an utterly undignified groan slipped from his lips. Eret wore the light like a cloak, came _alive_ with it, glowing and unearthly and so _beautiful._ Every muscle gleamed, coiling and flexing so powerfully, his scars shone like silver, and all the colors of the cave pooled in his dark eyes. Cassian couldn't resist a minute more. He shot forward and Eret readily swept him up, so high he had to wrap his legs around Eret’s hips, moaning against each other’s mouths as they kissed, messy and desperate. It was different from the first time, so much easier, hungrier, almost feral with how they devoured each other, but with care and surprising grace, Eret eased down to sit against a perfectly sloped boulder. He settled over Eret's lap, those scarred hands settled on his hips… and they fit so perfectly there, like two halves of a whole coming together. The water, so blessedly warm, smoothed the movements of palms over burning skin, left him weightless-

Well, not _just_ him. There was no mistaking the prodding between his thighs. A lightning-thrill shot through him and he shifted a little, lifting higher to let Eret’s cock rise so they could move together. Between kisses and catching his breath, he snuck a glance down and froze. And stared.

 _“God and all the heavens.”_ he could swear he saw his own cock jump an inch.

“What?” Eret asked, a little nervously.

“I- what do you _mean_ ‘what?’. Have you looked down recently? _Ever?!”_ he rasped.

Slowly, hesitantly, Eret peeked down, then couldn't tear his eyes away.

“You’re _huge.”_ he said, voice deepening with _want_ as he rolled his hips forward. 

Eret gasped, fingers digging into his hips as he pulled closer, _harder-_

“S-sorry.” he groaned, mouthing at Cassian’s neck.

Something occurred to him then, in a shocking bolt of clarity. With a gentle push against Eret’s chest, right over his heart, he backed away just a fraction and tilted Eret’s head up with a brush of fingers under his chin.

“Have you- have you ever..?” he asked. This was _important._

Eret blinked in confusion for a moment, brows furrowing… It clicked a beat later and he looked away, fingers fidgeting where the rested atop his thighs.

“If you aren't ready, you don't have to-”

“No! I mean, I _want_ to I just…” Eret looked away, just a fraction, “I don't really know _what_ to do. Exactly. With someone else.”

He sighed, coiling an arm around Eret's neck and pressing a kiss to his brow.

“You just do what feels right. There are certainly ways to go wrong _,_ but that usually makes itself evident. Painfully so.” a few more kisses to cheeks, nose, brow again, “Don't think too hard, and if you aren't sure? You need only ask. But _everything_ I am is already yours. It has been, for a long time.” 

He flushed at the admission and Eret finally met his eyes again to steal another kiss, slow and sweet. They had both flagged in the moment of neglect, but a long, firm roll of the hips was all it took to get them both gasping. He wasn't playing flatterer, Eret _was_ enormous, bigger by almost a third and he wasn't even fully erect. He wasn't _cut_ either, and he'd never seen that in more than stolen glances. Something primal clawed at his guts, the burning need to touch, to _mark-_ He broke for air with a ragged gasp as pleasure lanced white-hot from head to toe, and Eret glanced up uncertainly.

“Good?” he asked, voice utterly raw.

_“Yes.”_

He bit back another moan as Eret squeezed again, rolling his thumb around the tip of his cock, drawing his fist high to drag it slowly back down. His lover may be unsure, but he wasn't _clueless_. Every twist of his palm, curl of his fingers was careful and only grew in confidence as he figured out the angle, the timing, learning from the hitches in his breath, gasps of _Eret, there, yes just like that, please please don't stop._ But- this should be for the _both_ of them. He wiggled, shifted, and realized they would just be getting in each other’s way if he tried for his dominant hand. So with his right, he pressed their lengths together, _hot so hot, how can anything alive be so warm,_ stroking slow from root to tip, and quite by accident batted Eret’s hand away. They shuddered, diving back into another breathless kiss and he dared nip at Eret's lips, more demanding and bold, but the desperation ran so deep he knew he wouldn't last, not all night like he wanted, like _his lover_ deserved. And heavens, he'd wanted this so badly. Eret under him, begging, his name sweet as a prayer on that wicked tongue- To hell with control and restraint, this had been too long in the making andall he could do was groan, whisper, _moan_ Eret’s name between demands for _more, there, harder._ Blunt nails dragging down his spine and teeth scraping over his collarbone was what proved too much. Pure _bliss_ burst through him, shuddering and quaking and _sogood._ Stars danced in his vision as the whiteout faded and through the disorienting light, he could swear he saw a brilliant cord, like a river connecting their hearts. It was probably just the water, don't be silly. But all the while Eret stared in awe, utterly bewitched when he could finally see straight, and he was still painfully hard.

“Here, let me…” he rasped, nudging Eret’s hands away. This was _his_ to finish.

It was just as well, he could devote his undivided attention now, with _both_ hands. Even if he was still a little weak in the afterglow, he could do so much better this way. He pushed off and sank to the pool floor, nudged Eret’s thighs apart, slid between them, under him… Eret shivered, hands sliding up his arms, shoulders, cradling his neck as he chewed at his lip- Cassian paused.

“Eret, you can always say no. _One_ word and I stop, no questions asked.” he murmured.

“Don’t you _dare.”_ Eret gasped, so very near a growl.

Well, that answered that. He was too spent to do more than shudder in response, aching so sweetly down to his toes from how badly his body still wanted _more._ There would be other days, other nights, by candlelight and moonlight, dawn and dusk, oh _sweet mercy_ he never would've let himself dream of this before. Wait, thoughts for another time, no more distractions. Drawing a slow breath, he let his hands fall and slowly dragged his nails down Eret’s sides, hips, thighs, drawing a husky breath from his throat. Oh, he needed to hear _that_ again, as many times as he could manage. Maybe, starting with slow circles, kneading inward with his thumbs along the thick seam of muscle, and he intently watched the pleasure wash over Eret’s face until he finally curled his fingers around his cock again. It was hot and heavy, twitching against the pressure of his palm, and his fingers teasing that roll of extra skin which slid so easily with every pass of his hand. Just a few slow, gentle strokes sent Eret slumping against the stone behind them, drawing a shuddering breath that set his scars flashing like- like _scales_. Oh he was a _vision_ like this, all spread out only for him… Cassian swallowed hard, eyes glued to Eret’s face. The twitch and furrow of his brows, the tendons and even his _pulse_ cording in his neck as he moaned so sweetly, his stomach and thighs tensing against him, around him, with every tug and squeeze. He had to learn too, where his fingers put the best pressure, how much more sensitive Eret was where the skin covered him, and how _soft_ he was, he just couldn't stop! There was so much to explore, the meandering veins and delicate flare of the head, the weight of his- maybe he shouldn't be fondling Eret like this yet, but the way he _shuddered_ when he rolled his balls in his palm, _gently so very gently_ he wasn't completely naive. And even _there_ Eret tensed from the pleasure he gave, the soft sack suddenly drawing tight- was that supposed to happen? A few more firm strokes, a well timed, searing kiss, and Eret quaked from the core, eyes fluttering shut as pleasure overcame him in waves-

Cassian squawked when the strong arms over his shoulders crushed him against his lover's chest through the aftershocks, and he could _feel_ every punched-out, hitching moan drawn out by his own hands. _He did this._ It was a heady, new thrill and he could only huff a laugh and let Eret work through it, until he went boneless, gasping for breath. Cassian hummed against his throat, laying tickly kisses against the pulse racing just under the skin.

“I take it you enjoyed that?” he finally asked.

Eret shivered under him, only able to nod.

“Good. Here, roll over, let's soak your hair…”

Eret grunted, moving where he was pulled to float on his back, head cradled in Cassian’s hands. He carded his fingers through the silky black strands, massaging his scalp and neck until every press of his thumbs drew sweet sighs of pure bliss from Eret’s throat. They floated there, soaking the heat into their very bones and for the first time in weeks, he was _relaxing._ The Fireworms fluttered by, stealing sips of water from the pool or hanging close to peer at them both. He didn't know how long they stayed, but almost passing out in the water was a gentle reminder that they should be getting home. And… washing, as they had intended. He brushed the wet hair back from Eret’s brow, dropping a kiss there, then a few more until his nose wrinkled and he huffed a laugh, waving for a reprieve. 

“Alright, alright, I'm up.”

Eret ducked under the surface, rising with a splash to give his face a quick scrub and almost as an afterthought, grabbed the soap. With a cooler head, Cassian could take the time to admire Eret’s body, lean and lithe and so _powerful_ as he moved… He was caught in the act but Eret could only smile knowingly as he scrubbed down and passed the soap on, making his own show of watching. Those honeyed eyes seemed particularly drawn to his chest, for some reason, time and time again. What could it be? Its not like he was more well built, he had no scars, just hair- Really? _That's_ what did it for him? Oh, that merited teasing later. But soon they were clean, dry enough, and dressed, so they finally returned home. He yawned, settling deeper into the saddle and craned to rest his chin on Eret’s shoulder. Tyrian would be alright for _one_ night…


	10. Chapter 10

The biggest surprise in the preparations for Midsummer was that Berkians… did not make fruit tarts. Or apple wine. This revelation saw him reassigned to the kitchens to teach the bakers what he knew, after leaving plans for an apple press at the smithy. There should be just enough time for a light ferment, more an _ale_ than wine and his glass jugs would be the perfect vessels. He made a mental note to bake a nice salmon for Crucible later, he couldn't have done it without the sweet little Wraith. Some of the lightly-injured dragons were finally fit to leave the hangar and they were keen to explore their new home, though most did so in the quiet hours of not-night. They mingled with the rest of Berk's flock, or filtered out into the deeper, wilder parts of the island, but their gratitude was still palpable. Then, there was that Light Fury kit. More often than not she tried to ride on his shoulders, fighting with Foxglove for space and clawing up his back something awful and Toothless… He was _smitten_ with her, following them both around almost shyly, like he didn't know how to introduce himself. Hiccup said they'd never seen another Night Fury here, though Valka encountered a few in the past and far to the north. Toothless may well have grown up all alone, and this little Fury could be the first dragon like himself that he'd ever seen. It was unfortunate that she was so… _territorial,_ and didn't approve of Toothless getting too close. Not when Cassian was around anyway.

And Tyrian… he was healing. Slowly. But the wound was clean and scabbed over, and thought it irritated him greatly, the splint remained. With a wound that deep, they couldn't risk it re-opening and if it was anything like Cassian’s cut, it must be itching terribly. So bedridden he remained, but not alone. Crucible stayed with him, and the Sand Wraith too now that she finally introduced herself. The Light Fury was only content to stay there at night, for the comforting darkness. He visited as often as he could but with preparations in full swing, time was scarce. And with the sun failing to set, sleep was even scarcer.

***

Eret was a doomed man. Even more than usual. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Cassian, glowing like a pearl, beads of water trailing down the muscle that filled out his frame, so strong but still lean and lithe as a Fury…

He almost walked into a door for the third time that morning, and people were starting to notice. Not just out here either, he could swear he saw most of the riders exchanging _wagers_ over breakfast. It wasn't his fault Cassian was the most beautiful man to ever bless the archipelago! He sighed, opened the door properly, and stomped into Snotlout’s house. He'd been _insufferable_ with all his projects after the coat was finished, and now he was on some sort of tunic frenzy. Eret tuned him out mid-rant the week before, something about tablet weaving, shoulder seams, scales… Who knew.

 _“Finally._ My time is valuable!” Snotlout huffed, rolling up a bolt of linen, “Come on, it's over here. You will _not_ be dancing around all Midsummer in those ratty old clothes.”

_“Hey-”_

“You _know_ I'm right. Besides, don't you want to look all fancy for your purple prince?” he rolled his eyes, sorting through a box.

 _“Snotlout…”_ Eret growled, brow furrowing.

“Fine, I'm _sorry.”_ he groused, “Where the Hel are my- oh, there.”

Snotlout darted by to snatch a box of pins off another table and gave him another push into the workshop proper.

“Last fitting I _swear,_ these shoulders have been a nightmare.”

He rolled his eyes but shed his vest and outer shirt, setting them aside and hardly sparing a glance to the tunic Snotlout tossed to him. It fit better this time, for sure. It wasn't throttling him by the shoulders at least, and it wasn't _red._ No, it was simple blue-green linen, but there was no sign of all the experimenting Snotlout had been stressing about. Maybe their ‘master tailor’ was just waiting for this to be finished before adding it all. Snotlout buzzed around him, pinching and pulling at the fabric and muttering to himself.

 _“Finally!_ I knew I shouldn't have bothered with the blanket-stitch. You can take it off, I'll have it done by tomorrow.” he returned to his rummaging.

He _wished_ he could understand what went on in that man’s head.

“Oh, and send Cassian over! Don't know why you two are trying to keep secrets, you live in the same _house.”_

Eret stomped out, red-faced and fuming.

Cassian left early Midsummer morning for the kitchens, something about helping the bakers, so he had the privacy to get ready as he saw fit. Snotlout delivered the tunic with a proud strut in his step and it was considerably heavier now, but folded so whatever made it so fancy was hidden from sight. That could wait, for now he would wash up, comb his hair, maybe braid it- wait, no he had promised Astrid she could do that. Apparently he ‘owed’ her and he _knew_ it was because of some secret bet, which really begged the question of who wagered what. He could stop by later then… And it was a good thing they had that soak, he needed to look his _best._ Maybe he should dig out some of that jewelry he had stashed away, the ring at least.

His ring.

A thrill shot through him, so fast his skin prickled. It was the Berkian way, to exchange rings with- with the one you intended to marry. That wasn't in the stars for them, no matter his standing in the village but… if it was just for the two of them to know? Well, who could interfere? And, Cassian’s hands were so nearly the same size, it would surely fit somewhere. Someday. It was still too soon, that much was for sure. But the thought of his clan sigil, on Cassian’s hand for all to see… His heart burned fierce as a star in his chest.

Better not keep Astrid waiting, she'd hunt him down otherwise. So, he washed his face and hands, dug out his nicer trousers and boots, found the little leather pouch of jewelry and dressed. But the tunic… should he change now and risk getting it messy, or later and risk crossing Astrid for spoiling her work?

That was a stupid question, tunic now.

He carefully unrolled it and had to pause a moment to just, _look._ The collar, cuffs, and hem were now bordered with a wide woven… _ribbon_ almost, in a pattern like the sails of his ship, and the whole tunic was covered in minuscule golden scales, scattered like stars. How long had Snotlout been _planning_ this? With so much done, he must've been planning even before all those other projects he had been complaining about, plus something for Cassian too. He sighed, and pulled the shirt over his head. It hung long with high slits at the sides, the sleeves were short the way he liked… and it was _very_ well fitted across the chest, but not at all restrictive.

“Bad with feelings huh…” he mused.

Maybe only talking about them. Which is probably why he never noticed. That… explained a few things. A _lot_ of things.

“Damn…”

He snuck his way up to the Haddock house, never quite sure if _someone_ would be where they shouldn't. Skullcrusher was supposed to be keeping an eye out for him, but that didn't mean anything. He only knocked once before Astrid dragged him inside, and he resigned himself to his fate. She got _passionate_ about braiding.

“Oh, wow. Snotlout really went all out.” she hummed her appreciation.

“Uh, yeah. That.” he muttered.

Astrid stared at him quizzically for a moment, then pushed him towards a chair.

“Alright, what happened?” she prompted, setting out her tools.

He fiddled with his hair tie, pulling it out to buy time. He still wasn't sure what to think.

“Just… finally put some pieces together. Don't know what to do about it…”

Astrid tutted as she started combing, “Took you long enough. He’s been just as bad as _you,_ the only difference is he hides it better. Well, not by _much_ but that's only because we’ve known him all his life. And _you've_ had your head in the clouds.”

“I haven't- been _that_ bad.” he pouted.

Astrid rounded the chair so he was forced to see one delicate gold eyebrow arch.

“I can't even _tell_ you how many bets I've won because you're so obvious. Except for this _last_ one. You couldn't have waited a few more days?” she shook her head.

He _knew_ it. He fumed silently as Astrid combed and parted a few sections of hair around his face.

“He’ll get over it, he always does.” she continued, “Besides, you knew Cassian first. It should've been obvious you weren't- well. Nevermind, this is the same Snotlout that spent _years_ trying to romance me and Ruffnut. He's not good with hints, or direct statements.”

Astrid scowled, nose wrinkling in disgust at the memory.

“I _saw_ how he was with Ruffnut. Something’s… different. Maybe. I don't know…”

He sighed and Astrid said nothing more as she started to braid. By the time she was done, dozens of plaits made almost a net of his hair, holding the rest back from his face. She dusted off her hands and looked him over with a self-satisfied smirk.

 _“There._ He won't be able to keep his hands off you! Now win me a few more bets today and I'll call it even.” she playfully punched his shoulder.

Eret glowered, red all the way up to his ears.

***

Foxglove and the Light Fury were _thankfully_ content to sit by the hearth as he worked, since there were dozens of tarts to make. But, he had a team to peel and chop apples, mix _pounds_ of butter-crust, and mill oats for flour. These were going to be works of _art_ , spices or no spices. They rolled dough into circles bigger than a plate, layered the bottoms with oat flour, mounded on a mix of apples and other dried fruits, drizzled it all with honey and yet more butter. The oat flour would soak up the juices that sank to the bottom so the crust would stay crisp, and with the extra crust folded up over the edges of the apple mountain, they were ready for baking.

Snotlout caught him by the sleeve on his way home, dragging him down an alley as the Light Fury barked in alarm. He let go before Cassian could protest, and shoved a bundle of red cloth into his arms.

“There, it's done. Eret’s probably changing if you're still hung up on surprises.” Snotlout huffed, crossed his arms.

But his face fell, turning contemplative and almost _hurt._

“Just- take care of him. He's an idiot but- don't let him do anything _stupid.”_

Snotlout abruptly turned and plodded away, ignoring the Light Fury batting at his heels. She stomped back, curling around his legs as he stared on in bewilderment. What was Snotlout _talking_ about? He… could worry about that later. All his things were at home, so he would have to wait until Eret left. In the meantime he could check on the apple ale, and it wouldn't do to get his new tunic messy. It had cost him two absurdly large glass bottles, and he couldn't fathom what they were for. Probably not worth dwelling on, for everyone's sanity.

Four days proved to be _just_ enough for the apple ale, and it was a good way to use up some of the surplus from last year’s harvest before autumn. It was bright, sweet, but not _too_ strong, so it was filtered and decanted into casks to chill for the feast. They had whole boars roasting in the square, half a _dozen_ of them, and plenty of fish ready to cook closer to the start of the festivities. Bread was baking elsewhere, who knew what was cooking in all the home hearths… Berk was so _alive_ and he didn't know how he survived before this. The Shetlands, all of Angleland before that, _Normandy_ before that... he never felt like he was _home._ Not like this. It was so much like- like what he knew before, where he was born, all the holy days and parties and feasting... It was different of course, with foreign gods and sun-yearly days, but the energy, the _excitement_ was still the same. All the while, the Light Fury- she _really_ needed a name- circled back and forth around his legs as he walked, purring and chirping at every little thing and Foxglove did the same from his shoulder. She still coughed and sneezed, but her lungs were getting clearer every day as she put on weight and he dared think she was growing already. They should measure her later, keep a log of her recovery… it could be useful in the future. Crucible fluttered down from a rooftop, still carrying the glass ball in his mouth, and that Sand Wraith followed close behind, ever on his tail. Almost like she was _infatuated._ He should go see Tyrian for a bit, kill some time and make him comfortable until he could sneak home.

The Nadder was doing well. Not _perfect_ but… better. The isolation and stillness were clearly gnawing at him but it just wasn't safe to get up, even to hobble in a circle. Cassian unwound the bandage to check the wound with the little Prickleboggle looking on, and stopped. Stared. Even as the Prickleboggle swooped in to tend the area, he could only stare. The wound looked… _healed,_ or nearly so. He could certainly no longer see down to the bone, most was scabbed over and new pink skin crusted around the edges of the cut. He forced himself to take a breath, to calm the thrill in his heart. Tyrian would still need time to get the strength back in that leg, after so much damage to the muscle…

“You’ll be okay.” he sniffled, hugging Tyrian around the neck, “Just a little more…”

Tyrian thrummed, long and low until Foxglove was shaken off his back.

It may have been long enough, he thought, creeping back up the stairs. He clutched the tunic to his chest, nervously rubbing the linen between his fingers. Then, he scolded himself. There was nothing to be nervous _about,_ Eret wouldn't care how he looked, one way or another. Still, he wanted to look his _best._ He had a little jewelry squirreled away, and Astrid even offered to help put some ornaments in his hair. But he had to get all the flour out from under his nails first, ugh… he slunk through the narrow, unseen paths and paused outside their home with his ear to the door. Hearing nothing, he peeked inside, then slipped in, slamming the door behind him. Alright, first thing’s first, where was the soap… He scrubbed thoroughly, patted dry with his old tunic and pulled on the new. Snotlout had talked him into red, but he didn't mind too terribly. It was thankfully long-sleeved, with a fine woven brocade at the collar and cuffs and a border of scales along the bottom hem in pearly gold and silver. Snotlout had really outdone himself, the fit was _perfect_ and… well, flattering. He shot to the loft and dug through his trunk past shells, coral, shark teeth and a few shiny stones until he finally found the small leather pouch at the bottom. He emptied it into his palm and… frowned. He didn't really _have_ anything fine enough to wear. A few iron rings, a badly-tarnished silver bracelet, a ring of gilt and glass, and a single loose gem. He slipped everything back into the pouch and put it away. Maybe he could've made something by now if he'd thought of it. He did still owe Eret a token but… he had no sigil of his own. They used dragons here, even Eret had his almost-Stormcutter buckle and brooch. Maybe he could take a Nadder, or a Glass Wraith. It's not like he had to worry about passing one down. His line… ended here. But he couldn't bring himself to care, not when he woke to Eret’s smile every morning, and fell asleep under the comforting weight of his arms.

Well, time to find Astrid.

Cassian snuck to the Haddock house and Astrid ushered him inside before he could even knock, all the way to the table before the hearth and into a chair. Then she paused, staring at his hair with her hands on her hips.

“Well… I'm afraid this is new territory for _me.”_ she finally admitted.

“The coils could use a little twisting- ah, like this.” he leaned forward a bit, shaking his head.

The new growth was obvious, loose and fluffy atop his head save where it was freshly shaved-short at the sides, and ashamed as he was to admit it, his twists weren’t the _neatest._ It was hard to do without being able to see. But Astrid watched keenly as he pinched and gathered, twisting the loose hair into the base of a lock. A few tugs and rolls evened it out and he moved to another. Astrid watched a little longer, then moved behind the chair to start working from the nape up. She worked with growing confidence, teasing and rolling back and forth, neatening what work he couldn't. It had been a long time since he'd a proper fix for his hair, it should be a little less… fuzzy now. Tuffnut had made a comment about him looking like a baby chicken and he just couldn't forget that. The work didn’t take _too_ long thankfully, and Astrid dove right in to binding and plaiting… wait. It felt like she was weaving something in. He started to reach up to feel, but she shooed his hand away. Alright then, he could find out eventually.

Finally, Astrid handed over a mirror of polished copper, no bigger than his palm. It was tricky to get a good view, but he could just see sprays of tiny wildflowers and oak leaves tucked into the braided locks. Well, that was different. No one else seemed to be decorated in such a way, but it _was_ still early. Maybe he was just the first.

“Oak leaves are traditional for men.” she explained, “I figured it would be safe to get you all fancied up since you've been helping with the food.”

“Oh. Well, thank you.” he stood, stretched, “I'll leave you to your own work then-”

“Wait, before you go, I need a tie breaker! Green or blue?”

Astrid scrambled over to the corner and held up two dresses, one silver-green and the other pale blue. He considered a moment, lips pursed. She favored blue yes, but if she was going to wear flowers would that not look better against green?

“I think, green.” he chose.

“Great, _finally._ I am _not_ asking anyone else.” she huffed, throwing up her hands, _“This_ is exactly why you don't get opinions from an even-numbered group.”

Cassian chuckled, but Astrid stopped him one more time.

“Just one second, I know it's somewhere-” she flitted from shelf to shelf-

Then shot upstairs, where the rummaging continued until she shouted in victory.

“Why did he put it there, that doesn't even make _sense-”_ she muttered on her way back down.

But she paused at the bottom of the stairs, fist clenching around something.

“On _second_ thought, Hiccup will probably want to do this himself. So, sorry to keep you, off you go.” she shooed him towards the door.

Utterly confused, Cassian left at her bidding, ambling downhill. What were they planning? Well, that would come to light soon, he supposed. Time to get back to cooking, maybe check on the tarts…

He rounded a corner almost directly into Valka.

“Oh, excuse me, I- is it that time _already?”_ she gasped, looking to the sun, “My, it _is_ easy to lose track of the day, I best be getting home.”

“I think Astrid is getting ready, she did encourage me out. Just in case.” he warned.

“Ah, she ask you to break the tie then? You _did_ pick blue I hope.” she teased.

“You'll have to see for yourself!” he teased back.

He was glad she had warmed to him over the weeks, especially after that first raid. She was wonderful, wise… just, guarded. She waved her farewell to resume her march up the path, but quickly turned back.

“Eret is down at the smithy, if you two are still playing at surprises.” she winked.

He pouted and stomped his way up to the Ingerman house, with the biggest baking ovens on Berk. Not even half way there the smell of baking apples washed over the village, human and dragon noses alike sampled the air with growing interest. Well, _that_ was satisfying. But all the children gathering around the doors however could spell trouble, _especially_ Fishleg’s nephews and niece. 

“On with you, this is for the feast!” he scolded.

“Aww _Cassian,_ can't we just have _one_ bite?” Brenda begged.

“We can check for poison! We’d be saving your life!” Brant argued around her.

He simply pointed downhill, one eyebrow rising.

The children drooped and slunk away with one or two faked sniffles.

Cassian shook his head and ducked inside. Steam filled the air, wafting off the 15 tarts on their platters, while another 10 were baking around the great hearth. They were bigger than most plates, but with so many people he could only hope it was enough…

“These are good to go out to the tables, can you grab one dearie?” Aunt Gerta asked.

“Of course! Here, load me up.” he grabbed one tray, extending his hand for another, “Save ourselves at least one trip.”

He was only _just_ able to balance a platter over each hand and forearm and… it was quite a long walk to the square. He didn't think this through. Well, too late to back out now. He took a deep breath, rebalanced the trays, and started the march. Thank _Thor_ the dragons made room and knew better than to snatch at his delivery. The feast tables loomed, he hastened his steps-

His boot scuffed, a tray tilted-

And swift hands rose to steady it, then the other for good measure.

“If you needed help, you could have said so.” Eret teased, taking a tray.

Cassian flushed, nudging him with an elbow, _“Normally_ I can manage.”

And was he ever _beautiful,_ in blue and gold with his hair braided back… No flowers or garland of his own yet, but maybe he could remedy that himself. Eret couldn't tear his eyes away either, even as they moved to the tables to see the tarts safely delivered. He had to bat Eret’s hand away, lovingly of course, when he moved to snatch a piece of apple right off the top.

“If the children can't, you can't either.” he scolded.

Eret rolled his eyes, but took his hand and pulled him along to somewhere more quiet. That tender smile pulled at Eret's lips as he fixed some of the decorations in his hair, straightening a leaf, tucking a flower back in… Cassian sighed blissfully, leaning into Eret’s hands, kissing one palm then the other and drawing out a sweet, breathy laugh.

“You look good.” Eret murmured, ducking in for another quick, _proper_ kiss.

“Hmm, _just_ good?” he teased.

Eret kissed him again.

“You know what I mean.” he pouted, just for show.

 _“Do_ I?”

Eret tugged at his ear and he could only snicker, ducking away.

 _“Alright_ there are things to do, come on.” Eret tugged at his hand once more.

Yes, there were boar to tend, fish to roast, and who knew what else to make, so they were put to work. Eret was quickly pulled aside but… it wouldn't be for long. Though, he had _no_ idea what time it was, maybe early afternoon? When was the feast supposed to start, whenever the food was finished? Probably, he figured, and the sooner the better, he was _hungry_. For now he was tasked with rolling in the barrels of beer and mead and apple-ale, filling a few pitchers for the tables and leaving the rest in the shade to keep cool. More Berkians were trading off their duties for trips home, returning in their finery and flowers to send the next shift off. Oh, he should go get his lute-

“Mr. Hofferson, I'll be right back!” he said quickly.

“We’re almost done, there’s no rush lad-”

But he was already off at a light jog. Home wasn't so far, especially not when you cut between houses. He was in and back out in a flash, hitching the strap over one shoulder just as Skullcrusher ambled out of his den with a languid stretch. The dragon hummed, rolling into the hand Cassian offered.

“Well, I hope you had a good nap. The party is almost ready!”

Skullcrusher thrilled, trotting right past him and around the corner to follow the scents and sounds of merriment. Ah, he should check after the tarts again, the rest should be done…

Cassian and the two remaining bakers carried the last trays to the feast with Toothless keeping nosy dragons at bay, only after making an attempt on the tarts _himself_ of course. The whole village was streaming in, setting up more tables to carve the boar and fish and hold yet more bowls and baskets and platters, full of so much _food_ his stomach growled loud enough to startle Toothless. The embarrassment was only made worse by the dragon’s teasing, warbly laugh. The last tarts joined their brethren and-

Cassian froze, eyes narrowing.

A small but conspicuous sliver was missing from one of them, half-hidden behind a pitcher. There was a _sneak_ about, and he could hazard a guess as to who he was looking for. He rounded the table and peeked around the corner of the smithy, then slipped down to check behind. Nothing…

“He’s _gonna_ notice-”

The voice floated on the wind, barely a whisper, but he honed in on it sure as a bloodhound. Sticking to the shadows he slipped along the rear of the next house, waited at the corner…

“Well hurry up if you don't want to ‘get caught’.”

So, _Astrid_ was in on it too. He rounded the corner right as Eret stuffed the last bite of pilfered dessert into his mouth, utterly shameless. He crossed his arms and cleared his throat.

Eret froze, slowly looking over with eyes like a spooked deer.

“Uh.” he almost choked, “We were- testing for poison?”

Cassian squinted, one eyebrow rising and Eret pointed at Astrid, crumbs falling from his fingers.

“It was her idea.” he blurted.

Astrid whipped to glare at him, silently seething in betrayal.

 _“You_ don't get any more until the whole village has had their share.” Cassian said firmly.

Eret drooped, almost _pouting_ and Astrid nearly got a victorious laugh in-

“You _too_ Astrid.” Hiccup said, suddenly at his side.

She huffed, crossing her arms as a guilty blush climbed all the way up to her ears.

Hiccup and Cassian shared a look, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes while Eret and Astrid slunk off, brushing the vilifying crumbs from their hands and clothes. But Hiccup let out a fond sigh, as a wry smile tugged at his mouth.

“Those two.” he chuckled.

“What would we ever do without them?” Cassian agreed.

Hiccup hummed, turning… pensive. After a moment he pulled a small wrapped bundle from his pocket, turning it over in his fingers.

“If you hadn't been on that boat…” he finally said, voice thick, “That arrow would’ve killed me. If not then, soon after. It was _poisoned.”_

Something cold seized Cassian’s heart, driving the breath from him.

“We only found that out later, thanks to the twins.” Hiccup continued, “Your passion runs high, I thought that would just be a liability. But that's saved your dragon, _and_ me. You’ve more than earned a place in the raiders.”

He unwrapped the cloth and _gold_ gleamed in the folds, something ornate, and Hiccup stepped closer to pin the brooch to his tunic. It hung heavy and warm, but he could only stare in shock.

“But, passion isn't always enough, and it's not always the answer. There may come a time where you have to make a choice, and live with consequences that will weigh on you forever. _Learn_ from other’s mistakes and when you can… don't make that choice alone.” 

Hiccup clapped a hand on his shoulder, head tilting just enough to hide the wetness gathering in his eyes. Cassian drew a shaky breath, and braced a hand on Hiccup’s shoulder in turn.

“I will _never_ forget what you've done for me, and I will do right by everyone here. I'll swear it on my _life_ if I must.” he said, voice trembling.

Hiccup only smiled, giving him a little shake before returning to the feast.

Cassian took the chance to look properly at the brooch and he could _cry,_ it was- it was _more_ than beautiful. That very poisoned arrowhead sat in a golden frame in the shape of a Nadder, with purple gems glinting in it's eyes. Maybe he had a sigil after all, and there was that old hunk of silver gathering dust… He might just have to sneak a word in with Gobber. Best get back to the square, and make sure Eret didn't have his fingers anywhere they shouldn't be. 

They sang, they danced, they feasted and drank, long into and through the bright night, until one by one they had to retire. The food was packed away and sent home with the revelers lest the dragons finish it all. But, something had been nagging at the back of his mind.

The arrow was poisoned and the archer hidden. That was the mark of wanting someone _dead,_ not just defending their cargo. He and Hiccup had both been in the open, but he was the more visible of the two by far. Why had they shot at the harder target? Unless-

Crucible and Toothless swooped overhead, and he stopped.

They were so very, _very_ similar. Especially… if you only saw him from a distance, like a scout would. Scouts that would naturally report to Hiccup, who hadn't gone raiding himself in months. The trappers surely knew about him and Toothless, what better to lure out the Night Fury rider than a Night Fury, real or not?

He almost dropped the pitcher he carried.

It had been a _trap._

He shoved the jug into the hands of the nearest villager and bolted to where he'd last seen Hiccup, heart like ice and he shook to the core as he searched. Astrid was still out talking to Mrs. Ingerman, so he grabbed her by the hand without a word and dragged her away.

 _“Hey!”_ she snapped, “What-”

 _“Hiccup._ Where.” he ground out, trembling with fear _._

That shocked the protest from her.

“The smithy- Cassian, what happened?!”

He ignored her, powering through the thinning crowd into the smithy and he threw the door shut behind them. Hiccup jolted at the table, and Cassian spoke first.

“The ship, it was a _trap.”_ he said weakly, finally releasing Astrid.

Hiccup blinked, caught entirely off guard while he stumbled to the table, sitting heavily and bracing his head in his hands.

“Crucible, he was bait to get _you_ out there. From up high, he would look just enough like a Night Fury. And Foxglove, _she_ was there to poison the arrows. They were trying to kill _you_ to-” he looked up, new horror dawning, “To clear the way for the main fleet. If we were mourning _you,_ they could slip right by.”

Hiccup’s pencil clattered to the table and rolled, falling to the floor. Astrid dropped onto the nearest bench, pale and drawn.

“But- no one reported anything about a Night Fury.” he said, voice small.

“Just… luck maybe, something might’ve blocked him from sight. A shadow, another dragon…” Cassian shook his head, biting his lip, “The same luck that let me hear the bow, see the arrow…”

“The main fleet had dragons we’ve never seen, ones from all corners. The more _valuable_ ones.” Astrid added, slowly picking the flowers from her hair.

“They could afford to lose a few Scuttleclaws and Gronckles waiting for the perfect shot.” Hiccup scrubbed a shaking hard over his face.

The enormity of what they had so narrowly avoided settled like a blanket. They could not count on luck, not again.


	11. Chapter 11

Every passing day brought worse news. Not a _single_ ship made it past Berk in the past year, especially from the west and the archipelago was empty everywhere else. The markets were closing down as all the big buyers abandoned them, and the last of Drago’s conquests had shaken their chains and driven his forces off with the help of the few dragons left. Their own armada was shrinking as fed-up crew mutinied and left for home or parts unknown. They had one last hope.

The trap, so carefully planned, _was_ that last hope of ushering in one more haul.

The bait-boat arrived with nothing but the tale of an armored rider that shrugged off enough venom to knock a _Typhoomerang_ flat. The chief of Berk lived.

Two weeks later than expected, the fleet arrived.

No, not the fleet. One single ship. The only one left with a mast, and _that_ with only half a sail. Not a single dragon was left behind after all their planning, _and_ they had lost the cargo ship, one of the last remnants from their days of plenty. All those ships, all those cages, lost to the sea. Men too, from the reports. And the rumors.

 _Eerily_ familiar rumors floated through the survivors, of a rider in scale armor with a crown of spines that moved like lightning. And, in more hushed whispers, they said he was not _of_ Berk. This man, if he was indeed a man, had black skin and red eyes, felled half a dozen of their own only to roar with all the fury of a dragon at only trapper to see his face and live to tell the tale. Thrak was half-mad from lack of sleep, those eyes haunted him so. The threat the man, rider, _demon_ had made rippled through the army.

_‘And you will die screaming.’_

Ragnar the Rock stared at a map of their old empire, leaning heavily on the table. With a sedate flick of his fingers, he knocked over the little wooden models of their fallen fleet, one by one. They had ships still, safe here at harbor around the ruins and ancient slumping rock of the island they encrusted. A few dozen ships of every size, including theirs, the last and mightiest of it's order from the days of Drago’s conquesting, their departed leader’s very own flagship. But... most were small, some only had the barest of spaces below deck or hardly the room for four cages. They had a few dragons left in the ruins, but they were all injured and sickly and probably not even worth the effort it took to feed them.

“Ragnar, what _now.”_ Griselda snarled, clawing at the table.

“Summer is almost over, the northern passes will be closed to us if we delay much more.” Chaghatai said, low and slow, “The market will _not_ wait until next year, and we are the last supply they can rely on-”

“We _were!”_

Griselda swept the fallen ships off the table, scattering them across the floor.

“If _you_ have no plan by day’s end I am leaving with my men.” she hissed, pointing sharply at him, “I've wasted too many years in this wasteland, and _now_ there’s nothing to show for it!”

She stormed off and Chaghatai followed after a long, challenging look that spoke the same threat. Ragnar looked hard at the map, fingers tapping a sluggish rhythm around one _tiny_ island.

Berk.

Berk was the problem and solution. If they could hold Berk’s riders at bay, they could have their pick of the dragons there and be off before the ice arrived. But they had already tried that once and failed catastrophically. Well, that was going after the chief _._ What about his _dragon?_ The Night Fury controlled them all, or so it was said. And rumors, always rumors were floating by of a well-seasoned Night Fury _hunter_ just a little further east…

“Sindri!” Ragnar barked.

The trapper scurried over.

“You've heard of a Night Fury hunter, have you?” he asked cooly.

“Past the Broken Spines, some port called Iron Slag.” Sindri nodded quickly.

“Good! Go there, and if you can find him offer whatever he wants, because we have a Night Fury _problem.”_

Hunter or not, they would be ready to move in a few day’s time.


	12. Chapter 12

With the last raid on the armada, the trappers were gone from the charted lands of the archipelago, which all the riders they could spare confirmed after flying to every point on the compass. But, that was only the _charted_ lands. Silver Phantoms still tailed the single retreating ship through seas unknown, but they returned with rough additions for Hiccup’s great map. Those that remained fortified the island, _just_ in case… and cared for the ever-increasing number of dragons. If they were going to solve this trapper problem, it needed to be soon. Berk was big, but not _that_ big, and Toothless was hard-pressed keeping peace and order even with help from Skullcrusher, Stormfly, Hookfang, and the Goregutter. Dragon Island would be a good place to take the ones that couldn't stay, protected as it was by fog and stone. From there, they could go where they wished, when they wished it…

But there was _time_ again, for weaving and farming, carving and painting. Cassian still went on his morning run, visited Tyrian after and helped him hobble a few laps around the nursery, then spent the day however he felt like it. Lounging with the dragons that had flocked to him, tending to the other wounded, helping Fishlegs study all the new species… This is what life _should_ be, no trappers, no raids, no _war._ The yellowing bruise under Eret’s eye, the cut under his own, were both painful reminders of what was yet to come.

But one thought nagged at him. He still owed Eret a token, for his armor. Maybe in copper to match the gold-green… His brother would know what to do, he was the one that learned all that. But, who had made the brooch? There was nowhere better to ask than the smithy, Gobber knew _everyone._ Once they had a design, maybe they could make a _ring_ too, with that old silver… That wouldn't be needed for some time of course, it was just too soon. Even if he knew in his heart that's what he wanted more than anything. Even if… it couldn't be _real,_ just the two of them knowing. It would still be worth it, for _him._

“Gobber?” he called, striding through the door.

“Better not be _someone_ looking for _my_ mace- Oh. _Not_ Tuffnut. Proceed.” the smith emerged, stretching as he waved a hand Cassian’s way and he could only shake his head fondly.

“I… had a project in mind. A little one.” he said, fiddling with his pin, “Something like this, but smaller.”

Gobber squinted, but a particular _gleam_ he had come to distrust rose in the smith’s eye.

 _“How_ small are we talking?” he asked casually, “Something _round?_ That can be tricky.”

“Perhaps, this big?” Cassian held his fingers up about an inch apart, “And if it would be easier to make it square, or any other shape, by all means.”

Gobber blinked, “Eh, what shape _did_ you have in mind?”

“I did not think that far ahead, I assumed the smith would know what to do. I was just thinking of a small medallion with the same design that could be riveted to armor, in copper maybe?” he could only shrug.

Gobber pouted, mustache swinging as he huffed in- disappointment?

“Yeah, that's not hard stuff.” he finally said, “Here, let's get drafting, won't be able to fit _every_ detail in at that size...”

Gobber proved to be quite the artist, sketching away until he was satisfied, then he took up clay and tools to sculpt. First he formed a little puck of clay, traced the design and carved it in so _neatly._ Once he was done, he put the piece by the forge to dry and harden.

“So, once _that’s_ ready we’ll make a proper mold, dry _that_ and then we can cast the copper in. We’ve got some scrap somewhere… And I'll need _you_ to hold the end of the rivet in the mold, so it'll get cast right in. Give it a good clean and polish and we can put it on..?” Gobber paused, looking over expectantly.

Cassian flushed, “Armor.”

Gobber’s brows slowly rose.

 _“Eret’s_ armor.” he mumbled.

The smith chuckled, _“Thought_ so. Well, sneak whichever piece in and, if you ever need anything _else,_ maybe _round,_ maybe _silver…_ Well, you know where to go.”

Cassian nodded and made his escape. Eret wasn't home, so he rummaged through the crate of armor for the right-hand greave. It would be tricky, but they could get a rivet through _somewhere,_ to protect his sword hand… If only in spirit. It _was_ just a tiny piece of copper, he didn't expect it to stop a blade. They would each carry a piece of the other, no matter where the pitch of battle led…

***

“Alright, Foxglove- _sit.”_ Eret said firmly, waggling the little fish-treat for emphasis.

The dragon’s pupils blew wide and she did as he asked, though one leg slipped off to the side on the stone floor of the smithy.

 _“Good_ lass. Now, claw?”

He offered a hand and Foxglove dropped her strange paw into his palm.

“That’s my girl! Here, now gently- _ah,_ gentle, easy, it's not going anywhere.”

He jerked the fish back when she lunged, only letting her take it when she moved in slowly. She scarfed down her prize and eagerly looked up for more.

“That’s it until dinner missy. You _know_ Cass doesn't like me over-feeding you.” he scolded lightly, scratching under her jaw.

She had almost doubled in weight since the night they found her, and grown a whole handspan longer. At Fishlegs’ suggestion they were both training her to be less food-aggressive, on top of getting her socialized around Berk. Considering how dangerous she could _potentially_ be when full-grown, it would be in everyone’s best interest. He knew it would break Cassian’s heart if they had to send her away… No, no thinking like that.

“We’ll have to show ‘dad’ your new trick-”

“Show me what?”

He nearly leapt out of his skin, turning so fast where he crouched he just fell on his rear. Cassian leaned in the doorframe, arms crossed and head shaking fondly. Foxglove yipped, bolting over to claw at his boots, _begging_ to be held while Eret scrambled to his feet.

“You have _got_ to stop that sneaking.” he huffed, dusting himself off.

“Am I not ‘The Shadow’? You ask me to _deny_ my nature?” Cassian gasped in mock offense.

He stooped to pick Foxglove up, grunting as she settled against his shoulder.

“You won't be able to do this forever you know, _especially_ not the way you're growing. Datura is already pushing my limits.”

“Where is she off to anyway?” Eret took a proper seat, and Cassian joined him.

“Off bugging Toothless I'm sure, or Skullcrusher. I think she likes how shiny he is.” he shrugged.

The little Light Fury made herself quite at home around the town, and having her here did _wonders_ for Toothless. But they often found her looking west, out over the ocean as the sun set…

Eret hummed as he mulled that over. As young as she was, she had a family _somewhere_ that must be missing her… If there was still summer left when the trappers were sorted, maybe they could go searching-

“What?” Cassian prodded.

“Just thinking. About Datura.” he pursed his lips, wracking his brain.

“What about her?”

“She has a family _somewhere_ out there. She's not old enough to have left a nest, if I were to guess anyway. But, she may be able to navigate, and if we got her close… maybe she could find her way home.” he sighed.

Cassian nodded slowly, brows drawing tight.

“Maybe she'd choose to stay, maybe not.” he added quickly, “But, I think it would be good for her, and them, to know she's alive, thriving-”

He stopped short. That could apply to more than just Datura, couldn't it?

Cassian drew a shaky breath, “Have you ever thought of going home?”

“I-” he hesitated, but couldn't lie, “Sometimes, in the past. Not much lately. My father was a cold man, in every sense, and I lost my mother young. Can't even remember her. No siblings, no other family… I've been sailing so long I don't even know where ‘home’ is. There's nothing to go back _to.”_

He shrugged, but Cassian took his hand and pulled himself closer.

“I'm sorry…” he murmured.

“Don't be.” he kissed Cassian’s brow, “There's nothing to miss. _This_ is home now.”

Cassian went quiet and leaned into his shoulder, slowly stroking Foxglove as she curled in his lap. He had that _thinking_ look, lost deep over something…

“It has been weighing on me. Home, I mean. What could’ve happened in all this time?” he sighed, and Foxglove chirped in concern, “Al-Andalus is not Berk. There are far more people, all on one continuous land. It's part of the whole known _world,_ huge beyond imagining and there are no chiefs. Kings, emperors, caliphs… they wield far more power. It all seems so strange now. But my brothers could’ve been taken for some war, my sister is probably married… I just don't _know.”_

“Will you try to go back?” Eret asked, and quickly corrected, “Not _now,_ but someday?”

“Maybe…” Cassian said quietly, “Not now. I'm _needed,_ I can't leave. But… I don't know. I was only close with my sister. Her name was- _is_ Safiyah.”

He went quiet for a time, Eret knew better than to prod. Cassian had quite the mind, he just needed space and peace to _use_ it.

“Parents always have favorites, no matter what they claim.” he continued, “My two oldest brothers, Jarrah and Zayd, held my father’s attention, as Mother favored Affan until Safiyah came along. They probably didn't notice I was gone for _days._ I doubt they would even recognize me now.”

“Maybe…” Eret pulled him closer, “But if they had any sense, they would be proud.”

Cassian shrugged and Eret was content with silence for a time. But the prospect of new lands set the hooks of wanderlust under his skin, and _questions_ danced with them.

“Your home, what was it called?” he finally asked.

Cassian glanced up with a touch of surprise, but he went right on to tell him.

“Al-Mariyyah, was the town. A big trading port on the sea. The city proper was up in the hills, but there were beaches below, and all around. It was maddeningly hot in summer, and rained very little. We would swim in the sea, it was so _blue…”_ a shuddering sigh left him, and his lips trembled, “I- you would love it there, all the ships, the open sky…”

Something shifted at the window, and Eret looked to just barely see Hiccup retreating. Probably just wanted to be polite. But he was content, _unspeakably_ so, to let Cassian ramble until dinner. He did want to see this, _all_ of it- someday. Someday soon… maybe they could take their whole pack along, aim to get there in winter so it wouldn't be so hot. They could even try their hand at a little trading, bring back all sorts of treasures. Fine stones, rare colors, spices, wine- some of _that_ for themselves of course. And they would have the dragon-power to carry it all back.

***

Tyrian’s wound was so nearly healed, with shiny pink skin sealing the gash shut, save where there were still a few knobbly scabs. He could walk a little, though he limped badly and had trouble with balance, but he was free to _fly_ again and leave the infirmary. Bedrest had left him a little weak and lethargic, but Cassian knew just how to build his strength up once more.

“I know you're tired, but wake _up.”_ he huffed, hauling around the dragon’s neck, “You can sleep _after_ and have all the fish you want but you _will_ exercise!”

Tyrian finally relented, toddling out of the stall with his nose pressed to his rider’s chest. Cassian turned, propping the Nadder’s head on his shoulder to support him as they started the long walk to Astrid’s course. It would be a long, long while before that leg was back to normal. He... really couldn't put off finding another partner, he would not risk Tyrian’s life again. There were plenty of Nadders around, they would need to start drilling to be ready for whatever was coming. Tempting though it was, Crucible was too small to ride and inexperienced besides, as was Andarax. The poor Sand Wraith’s tail probably wasn’t healed yet either. But she seemed happy here, and had bonded almost instantly with Crucible. It was so sweet to see them flying wing to wing, and walking with their sides pressed firmly together, tails entwined…

Tyrian needed a break part of the way through and Cassian relented, even crouching to give that leg a gentle rub-down. It _seemed_ to help with the soreness and stiffness, but being out in the open helped his _spirits_ even more. Hearing the birds, feeling the wind, seeing the sky, smelling the richness of the earth… the Nadder was content to sit with his nose raised to sample the breeze, eyelids drooping.

***

The base was found. At a certain point the scouts were sure enough of the ship’s trajectory and forged ahead through unknown lands, on and on over ugly, barren rock. The base itself was impossible to miss, a sullen crater surrounded with ships like so many flies around a wound. _One_ was certainly large, but the armada there was nowhere as big as they feared, scarcely 60 ships and only 10 of those were any bigger than a two-mast. It was almost… disappointing. The trappers had fallen so _far_ after their first loss at Berk. When the Silver Phantoms returned, Changewing riders were sent out to replace them. They could get in even closer and spy for some _proper_ information, and that may well have saved them.

The lone survivor of the western armada limped into port, and even high above the arena the riders could hear whispers of a _demon_ on Berk, then… a Night Fury hunter being tempted into the warlord’s service. They stayed only as long as they dared.

***

“You're _sure_ that's what you heard?” Hiccup asked, cold and slow to mask his fury.

“Odin as my witness.” Bjorn swore, “They sent someone to a port called… Iron Slog? Slug? _That’s_ all I didn't hear clearly, to try and hire a man that brags of hunting Night Furies, ‘anything he asks for’ the warlord said. _Big_ lad he was…”

Cassian frowned, “It sounds like they’re trying the same thing again. Send someone ahead to cause a distraction… but, aiming for Toothless?”

“To make our _dragons_ break ranks. _That’s_ what they're after.” Eret snorted, “I’d bet they want to make one last try before the northern trade routes close. They're giving it everything they've got because _this_ is their last chance. They may be coming directly for Berk. Again.”

“But now we know their plan.” Astrid’s small grin grew determined, “They can't catch us off-guard and now _we_ can set the trap for once.”

“Let them _think_ they've got the upper hand and draw them in close.” Cassian added, “If the ships cluster around the village because that's where they see the most dragons, they would be concentrated enough that we could sink everything on the fringes, block the armada in. They would be at our _mercy.”_

“Mercy…” Hiccup muttered.

The table went quiet as Hiccup fell deep into thought, scratching at the stubble that was growing in thick, almost overnight it seemed. He was looking more and more like his father, even _Cassian_ could see that. But he frowned. They did not _deserve_ mercy after all this time, after what they did to Tyrian, Foxglove, Datura, _Eret-_

“We’ll hem them in, destroy their weapons and cages, then their leaders get one, and _only_ one chance to retreat. They will leave the archipelago forever, on pain of death, or die then and there. It's _more_ than they deserve-” he raised a hand to any protest, “-but there's been enough death. I want this over with.”

Under the table, Eret took his hand, squeezed tight, and he reluctantly nodded with the rest.

“It may be some time before they find this hunter, if they find him at all and if he even _agrees,_ but we can't count on it. We’ll post patrols, day and night and…” Hiccup sighed, “Toothless will have to stay hidden as much as possible.”

The war council filtered away and Cassian fumed all the way home.

“They are not _worthy_ of mercy.” he hissed, slamming the door shut, “They've had _every_ chance to leave, to stop, but they still fight like theirs is ‘work’ worth saving.”

“Cass…”

“These are the monsters that hurt _you,_ I am not so willing to forgive that-”

Eret pulled him close, hugging him tight and he could only go limp with resignation. 

“He's _dead_ Cass, dead and gone. For the rest… it's not always so easy. Good land is rare, there are only so many ways to survive. Why do you think so many raiders went south? There just… isn't _enough_ up here. Some of them are just trying to see another day.”

Cassian didn't trust himself to say anything, nodding mutely against Eret’s neck.

 _“One_ chance is all they get. If they had any sense, they'd take our offer and go. _Very_ far away.” Eret sighed, and dropped a kiss atop his head, “I'm sure we’ll be on patrol, we’ve got to get you paired up with someone. There are always Nadders on the cliffs…”


	13. Chapter 13

Grimmel the Grisly sat in the very center of the most raucous bar on Iron Slag as he had for the last week, and he reveled in the attention. Yes, _he_ was the Night Fury hunter, and he had a dozen tales to regale them with. And as always, after a long week he would finally get to his very first, then disappear in the night to let his reputation _stew._

_“_ Every hunter remembers their first kill, and not just _any_ hunter can take down a bull Fury in it's prime. They are _clever_ my friends, but not so clever as me _,_ even as a young lad. Our home was dark, deep with forests, and that is the kind of island they _love_ to hide in. It is hard to track them, and they move so swiftly you’d smash yourself into a tree trying to keep up! Which is why you shouldn’t even _bother_. The right bait drew him into my snares and I cut out his still-beating heart as a gift to my _dearly_ departed father. That day I found my calling! But it's such a shame there are so _few_ left… Hasn’t stopped me of course, I bagged one just last week! It was young, inexperienced, but so _feisty.”_

He cackled and his audience cheered, raising their ale in a toast. 

“And what of those beasts outside? Hardly seems worth the effort.” a man snarked.

Yes, the war-rig, his greatest creation and proof of his claims, studded all over with Night Fury skulls and powered by _dragons._

“Ah, I would not insult a Deathgripper good sir, there are not inclined to forget it.” Grimmel wagged a finger, “But their venom is the _key_ to my success-”

“The Night Fury hunter, is he here?” a new voice called, too loudly.

The crowd cheered once more, pulling the newcomer forward. He didn't like the feel of this, when people came looking for him it was usually because-

“We have a Night Fury problem.” the stranger said in a rush.

Grimmel froze as eyes fell back on him, eager and expectant.

“Well, why don't we go to my rooms to discuss business in private?” he replied coolly.

He gestured with a sweep of his arm to the stairs and the stranger eagerly followed, away from _prying_ eyes. He followed the man up and shut the door firmly behind them, locking it for good measure.

“Ragnar the Rock is prepared to pay _whatever_ you ask for the capture of that Night Fury living on Berk, he's planning a full raid of the island-”

He let the man ramble. Anything he asked… that sounded quite desperate. He tried to avoid trappers as a rule, they asked too many questions, demanded too much but, _anything_ he asked for just _one_ Fury? That… sounded worth the risk. Worst comes to worst, he could dart what he needed to and escape.

“You can tell your commander I _accept_ his generous offer. I'll head straight to Berk, make my plans, I'll have your Fury captured in time for your fleet to arrive.”

He extended a hand and the stranger quickly shook it, and scampered off when he opened the door. With it closed and locked once more, he fell into the chair at his rickety desk, staring at his charts. Where the _Hel_ was Berk…


	14. Chapter 14

It was starting to look like Tyrian was an anomaly. Every other Nadder on the island just _refused_ to partner with him. They tolerated a little attention, a few scratches sometimes, but at the sight of a saddle they would _bolt._ Astrid couldn't make sense of it, neither could Fishlegs, or Hiccup, or _Valka._ Even Stormfly wouldn't let him close. It stung, and everyone could see it but... _why_ ? Did they somehow smell Tyrian’s blood after all this time? Other dragons were equally uneasy, though they wouldn't run they just _wouldn't_ let him aboard. Only Skullcrusher seemed to have his wits about him, so they flew together, alternating shifts with Eret. He was tasked with the first night patrol and _loathed_ it, even though the shifts were only a few hours. The anxiety, the constant vigilance left him drawn and weary, and his guts churned into knots so tight even the hots springs offered no relief from that or the strange, phantom ache in his leg. Could a bond with a dragon run so deep they felt each other’s pain? Maybe Hiccup would know, or Valka…

Another night, another shift on the watch. Cassian donned his armor, parted from Eret with a kiss, and took to the skies with Skullcrusher, flying wide loops around the whole of Berk. The nights were growing long again, long and dark…

***

At this point, Hiccup would’ve preferred a whole armada to just _waiting_ for a hunter to show up. Even after a week of patrols, there wasn't a single hint of this man. No ships, no traps, no scouts… He hated hiding Toothless away even more, but they had to mitigate the risks.

Another night, another evening by the hearth pouring over notes and maps so they could figure out the best places to relocate all these dragons. It would probably just be easier to herd them all to Dragon Island and let them figure the rest out themselves…

Something creaked upstairs, and he _should_ be alone.

After a long moment there was another creak, and another, heading towards the stairs. His blood ran cold as he took up Inferno, standing slowly as footsteps descended, halting and uneven. A stranger, tall and waif-thin was in his home, looking around like a child that knew he was somewhere he didn't belong. At least, right up until the man spotted _him._ Then it was like an air washed over the man, he stood taller and almost _forced_ a sneer in his lip. What in Odin’s name-

“Ah, _chief_ Hiccup.” the man drawled, striding into the room, “What a _lovely_ home, so very… _wooden._ Not the best idea with your little dragon problem.”

 _“You're_ the Night Fury hunter.” he snarled, and flicked Inferno open.

The flames rippled and hissed, highlighting the almost _startled_ bulge of the hunter’s eyes, quickly masked.

“You've heard of me, good! Your father did as well. It's a _shame_ he never called on me, I could have saved you _so_ much trouble.” the man boasted, throwing his arms wide, “But I can still work my magic. Hand your little Fury over and all this trouble with the warlords ends! Keep your _pets_ if you wish-”

 _“Enough.”_ Hiccup snarled, forcing the man back at swordpoint, “Toothless isn't mine to give or yours to _take_ and they aren't our _pets.”_

“Now now, let's not be hasty-” the man stammered.

“You and the warlords are in _no_ position to negotiate. I don't know how you got here, but you're leaving. _Now.”_ he jabbed at the man’s chest.

The hunter blinked owlishly then bolted for the front door, fumbling the latch and wrenching it open. Outside, he whistled high and sharp and a _dragon_ answered. Hiccup got to the door just in time to see the gangly man leap onto a black mass that bucked wildly as it took off, spewing streams of liquid-green fire over the rooftops.

***

Skullcrusher scented something, rumbling deep and low as he broke from their patrol and followed a trail back to the village. Cassian drew a steadying breath. This could be it. From the very edge of town they spotted flames, bursting over the rooftops in the wake of something dark and flailing, heading out to sea-

“Crush, get ahead of them!” he hissed.

Skullcrusher wouldn't act like this for a Berkian dragon, and that was no fire _he_ had ever seen. It could only be a hunter, maybe _the_ hunter and he had to get that bastard off that dragon, whatever it may be. Skullcrusher angled ahead of their wild path and he prepared to jump. It was the only way. This was going to hurt...

Just before they would crash Skullcrusher banked hard, back to the other dragon and he flung himself out, feet-first at the rider and for a moment, he was weightless. Then his heels collided with the Rider’s chest, knocking the man clean off the dragon’s back. The thin figure tumbled, bounced off the dragon’s wing and crashed through the roof of a shed below. But Cassian scrambled for purchase on all the jagged armor plates until he finally snagged something, some kind of belt, a _collar_ around it's neck.

He hauled himself back up, arms burning from the effort until he knelt astride the dragon’s back, armor slipping against the dragon's scales. It keened in _pain_ as he shifted and tried to buck him off, but he leaned hard to the right, pressing a knee just before the dragon’s wing and it pitched, careening towards the ground. With a desperate burst of strength he pulled back on the collar and the poor beast raised it's head, just before they crashed. Through the impact he was thrown over it's wings, but rolled with the momentum and finally skidded to a stop. Gasping for breath, he wrenched off his helm. Lanterns and torches emerged all over the village as the Scauldrons mustered to fight the scattered fires but all Cassian could focus on was the dragon. It was _like Foxglove,_ all red and black but that _thing_ around it's neck… He snagged a lantern and crept closer, heart clenching. It was some sort of collar, thick leather with strange pods studded in it and a huge, heavy buckle. He set the lantern down and worked the clasp open, but the collar did not fall away. He had to _pull_ , and almost gagged when tiny blades on the underside dragged out of the poor beast’s flesh. The stench of infection immediately permeated the air and the dragon keened again, gasping desperately.

“Shh, it's alright, you're free.” he whispered, stroking the dragon’s brow.

He threw the wicked collar aside, turning the whole of his focus to the dragon. It's breath grew ragged and it _bellowed,_ legs scrabbling at the ground as it's tail whipped hard and fast, driving the crowd back.

“Please, you're safe! Don’t-”

The dragon shrieked, lashing out with a barbed claw that gouged his left cheek, perilously close to his eye, then struck with it's stinger. All he could think to do was grapple the tail over his shoulders, twisting to pin it there while he wound his legs around the dragon’s neck and pulled with all his might. The dragon bucked wildly, trying to shake him off and gathered it's legs enough to bolt, careening through the village towards the main square while it howled in pain. He quaked with the effort of just holding on, every inch of him _burned_ until the dragon dropped like a stone. It shivered and shook, seizing uncontrollably and Cassian dared whisper a prayer to whoever was listening. The way it was flailing it would stab someone with that stinger, or even itself, he _had_ to endure-

The dragon shuddered, it's spasms weakened, and it finally went limp, whimpering with each rasped breath. Cassian flopped bonelessly off it's back into the dirt, too spent to even give it a reassuring pat. As the roar of blood in his ears faded, awareness of shouting, voices, _danger_ returned.

 _“Cass!”_ Eret’s voice rose above the din, panicked and _stricken_.

He shoved through the crowd and pulled under his arms, taking him away-

“No!” he protested, grabbing the dragon’s frill, “No, it's hurt! It's _Foxglove’s kind.”_

He slipped from Eret’s grip and hauled on the dragon’s head, pulling it up into his lap. It whined, eyes rolling when they opened at all. Blood and _worse_ sluiced down it's neck to spill over his armor and his own wound dripped over it's scales. He had almost forgotten that… But he didn’t dare touch it, not with his suit this dirty.

“There was a collar around it's neck, with _blades_ on it.” he ground out between ragged gasps, “That _bastard_ did this, I kicked him off and he fell, through a roof-”

“The Thorstons have him sorted!” someone shouted.

“I'll tell Hiccup!” another called.

Spitelout arrived with Cassian’s helm and the collar, passing them over to Eret.

“What in Thor’s name-” he growled, turning the collar in his hands.

Something viscous and bright dripped from the spikes, protruding from the undersides of the pods. They both stared, shared a look, then turned their eyes to the dragon’s tail.

 _“Venom.”_ Cassian hissed.

Eret set everything down and curled over his back, shaking with nerves as he held on tight, _tighter._ He covered Eret’s hands with his own, drawing another shaky breath.

“I'm alright.” he murmured, “It's just a scratch.”

Eret could only nod silently against the back of his neck, so he sagged into Eret’s arms, utterly spent. He just needed to rest, until Hiccup got here at least. The dragon had fallen asleep, thank heaven, breathing slow and deep. Through the crowds, someone brought a wet rag that Eret took, gently dabbing his face clean until he finally put pressure on the wound. He hissed, but endured it. At least the scars would almost match…

It may have been minutes, but it felt like hours when the crowd finally parted to usher Hiccup in. The sky was blushing with the first hints of an early dawn, making it that much easier to see the dragon on top of him. Hiccup stared as Cassian stroked it's brow, barely moving for the little Prickleboggle as it swooped in to treat the other's wounds and his. Again.

“That’s- it's like _Foxglove.”_ Hiccup said, eyes wide with awe.

“She was drugged.” he muttered, “That collar, it was filling her with _venom._ The fits must've been from the effects wearing off.”

“We should get her to the hangar, there's no telling how she’ll react.” Hiccup frowned.

He… nodded. _This_ was not Foxglove. She did not know him, and who knew what cruelty she had endured at the hunter’s hands? He would try to meet her of course, _every_ dragon deserved a chance. Just, once she had rested.

“Twiggy prisoner, coming through!” Tuffnut shouted.

Both twins dragged a skinny, hog-tied man across the ground by his ankles and dumped him in front of Hiccup. The man struggled upright to his knees, looking around in a panic and made the mistake of locking eyes with _him_. The stranger went even paler, downright _grey_ as he unwound himself from man and dragon, rising to his feet. He snagged the collar from the ground and rounded the prone dragon to stand at Hiccup’s side. _Fury_ gave him strength, he _shook_ with it and could barely restrain himself enough to ask:

“What. Is _this.”_ he hissed between clenched teeth.

The hunter shrank back, looking every bit like a trapped animal.

“This is just a misunderstanding!” he whinged, “It's nothing, really-”

Cassian hauled him up by the lapels of his coat, glare _boring_ into the man’s eyes.

“You have no supplies, no weapons. There must be others. Where. Are. They.” he snarled.

“Nothing, none, nowhere-” the hunter babbled.

Cassian dropped him and rage won over sense. The collar whipped through the air, striking the hunter across the jaw with a deafening crack and the man fell flat. Before he could raise the awful _thing_ again for another blow, it was gently prised from his hand. Eret pulled him back, passed the collar to Hiccup, and steered him away.

“Get this _beast_ in a cage.” Hiccup ordered, even and cold.

The twins dragged the hunter away, and Skullcrusher nudged through the crowd to nose gently at the dragon, sniffing deep while others helped a team of Gronckles grapple and haul her to the infirmary. Cassian watched them go, longing to follow but if there were more… they _had_ to look.

“Crush has the scent we- we need to track it.” he muttered, swaying on his feet.

“You aren't fit to go _anywhere-”_ Eret protested.

“Please, if there are more they'll be drugged too, maybe trapped. T- they're Foxglove’s _kin_ we can't leave them.” he choked, breath catching in his throat.

Eret sighed, and dropped a kiss on his brow.

“Let's get that mess off first, before it dries. And… get you something to drink.”

Cassian nodded, following him home and only sparing the barest glance to the hunter as he was hauled off. Good _riddance._ Home was quiet, safe _,_ and they could focus on washing the blood from his firescale, face, neck… He hoped this wouldn't turn into a regular occurrence. But they had the hunter, and Toothless was safe. That's what mattered. They cleaned up, rested and restored themselves for a trip who-knew-where.

“We should grab some shears, just in case…” Eret said.

“If the others are drugged too, we should try to bring them back to Berk before getting the collars off. They will be able to recover with- with the other.” he cut himself off.

It was too soon to be naming them, they may not even choose to stay once they recovered. Maybe… they were too abused to live among men. It was for _them_ to decide. He would help in any way he could until they were healed. Eret grabbed a satchel and they stopped by the smithy for some tools, shears and a hand-saw in case there were chains. Once on Skullcrusher, he leaned heavily on Eret’s back as they rose into the dawn, following some mysterious trail. There were a few low islands within minutes of Berk, the hunter must've set up a camp, leaving supplies, maps, tools… Hiccup would want that sort of thing.

It was a good guess. On a crumbling heap of rock they found a strange contraption, two long crossed beams above a frame that held a sort of deck, a tiny platform not much bigger than a table. Four more of the black and red dragons were chained to the end of each beam, and a fifth slumped at the foot of the structure. All of them stared at nothing, swaying in place, listless and almost drunk on the effects of the venom. It looked like the hunter’s affects were still there, but there was something studded all over the beams-

“We’ll cut them loose and lead them back.” Eret said.

Skullcrusher landed and the dragons didn't react at all, even when they both approached, but Cassian froze. The beams were covered in skulls _,_ so very, very familiar. _Night fury_ skulls, a dozen, maybe more. Eret squinted, finding a place to climb up to the deck and he followed. They left the bags on a table, and there were even _more_ skulls here.

“This- hold on.” Eret squinted, and pulled one smaller skull from a beam, “This… look here, where the teeth should be.”

Cassian pushed his face plate back, and grimaced. The skull was bleached-white, but along the tooth sockets below one eye the bone was pitted, warped, almost looking _fibrous_ in places. 

“That was an infection, right down to the bone _._ This dragon may've just… been dead or dying already.” Eret’s frown deepened as he looked to the other skulls, “And that one, that one- _half_ of these have infections like that. That one there looks like it has scars from a bite to the head. Did he actually kill _any_ of these?”

“If you know where to look for bones…” he mused, “And you need to brag about killing dragons… Skulls would be the perfect advertisement.”

“Or it could prop up a _farce.”_ Eret’s nose wrinkled in disgust, “Let's- get this done.”

He set the skull down and started sweeping maps and tools and books into a bag, while Cassian rifled through chests that only contained clothes. From there they clambered up to the beams, tip-toeing out to the first two dragons. The harness was an awful, bulky thing, he could _see_ the dragon’s neck and shoulders rubbing raw under it. He quickly removed the hooks, pins, everything that kept the dragon prisoner, but it did not leave. Neither did the next two. They slid back to the ground, took up the bag of pilfered goods, and stared up at where the dragons were still perched.

“How will we get them to follow?” he asked wearily.

Eret frowned, “I think I've got an idea…”

He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled high and sharp. The dragons jolted like a trance had been broken.

“Like _dogs.”_ Eret sneered, “C’mon, mount up. Might have to try a few things..”

Skullcrusher rumbled as they boarded and gladly took off, circling the island while Eret tried another whistle, two quick chirps. They launched into the air, but only hovered in place. A long, low whistle finally got them following at a comfortable distance, and Cassian couldn't tear his eyes away. They were _beautiful,_ varied in their patterns of red on black, but three were much more red than the others. Perhaps those were male? The one that hadn’t been harnessed was notably smaller, it must be young…

Hiccup and Toothless intercepted them on the outskirts, leading them around the village and straight to the arena. It took a little more experimenting to get the pack to land, then follow single-file down the ramp with half a dozen different whistles. The arena had been cleared, cave doors closed, and the inner gate half-lowered behind them.

“With so many, I thought it would be safer here.” Hiccup sighed.

“We snagged his stuff too, might be something revealing.” Eret passed over the satchel, “His rig, it was covered in Fury skulls but- now hold on, I don't think he actually _killed_ any of them. Most had bone infections, or injuries from other dragons. He may have just found them, collected them and passed them off as trophies. I've seen that before.”

Hiccup breathed slow to mask his simmering fury, “I’ll check it later. Let's just get the collars off, and get out. We can't grapple all of them.”

Cassian took the closest and biggest, a maybe-female with one milky eye that still swayed deliriously. He yanked the buckle open, pulled the collar off as quick as he dared, then moved to the next. The dragons were just starting to spasm and stir when they bolted for the tunnel and the gate slammed shut on their heels. The outer hatch closed too, a little longer after they cleared it and the first dragon wailed-

“C’mon, let's get home. You don't need to see this again.” Eret slid an arm over his shoulders.

A protest died on his lips when his knees almost gave out, so he relented. Skullcrusher flew them home, Eret got him out of his armor, and he had to force himself to clean the suit further before crawling into bed. Eret slid in behind him, pulled him flush and covered his hand where it trembled and twisted in the sheets. Kisses peppered his neck as they settled, then shoulders, one, two, three knobs of his spine…

“That was some _mighty_ fine wrangling.” Eret murmured.

Cassian could feel the smile against his skin, and so stole Eret’s hand to lace their fingers together. He really did wrestle a whole dragon, didn't he?

“It needed doing.” he shrugged, and kissed Eret’s knuckles in turn.

“We can try to check that dragon in the morning but… it may not be what you're hoping.”

“I- I know.”

***

They didn't sleep long. Cassian was still sluggish when he left to get breakfast cooking, and no better when he returned to sit at the edge of the bed. Tentatively, he traced the _new_ wound on Cassian’s cheek and his heart ached fiercely. It was even deeper than the first, but the old cut was somehow nearly healed, bright pink where the scabs had flaked away. Maybe in time they would look rugged, intimidating, but… it still hurt to see _now_. It could've been worse, so much worse, and where had he been? Half asleep at the damn kitchen table, _useless._ But- wallowing wouldn't solve anything, and Cass would probably scold him for it. They prepared for the day, long as it was _sure_ to be, but Cassian paused at the door and returned to the loft for Foxglove’s sling.

“Maybe she can help smooth things over with the others.” he said, still a little groggy.

“Not a bad idea.” he agreed.

Fox was with Tyrian in the stable, right where they left her, and she was overjoyed to see Cassian, clambering up his legs before he could even reach for her. Eret helped settle the dragon in the sling and tied it properly, then took Cassian’s hand for the walk to the hangar stairs. It was mostly empty down there now, save for the dragons sleeping or passing right through, but their business was further in. His heart pounded as they passed down the tunnel into the even quieter nursery. Only the green-gold Nadder remained there, and the new dragon lay heaped in a nest on the far side of the room. She was almost comically too-big for the space but… she was awake, and bandaged around the neck. Cassian was ready to bolt, but he held firm to his hand.

“Wait-” he cautioned, “Let's… let's just take this slow.”

Cassian nodded reluctantly, following his lead step by step and the dragon just… watched. He knew that look by now: searching, _thinking._ Her tail was coiled behind her, legs tucked demurely under, tusks retracted… all good signs. He let Cassian go and nudged him forward, this was his to solve. He could get them both out if… things turned sour. Foxgolve squeaked, peeking over Cassian’s shoulder and that had the dragon springing to her feet in shock. They both froze as the dragon paced around, had it been so big they day before? nosing at the sling and crooning to Foxglove who squealed in delight, wiggling until Cassian removed her from his back. Once her claws hit the ground she was off like a rocket, scampering around the bigger dragon’s feet and both were _enthralled._ The newcomer chased after Foxglove, mock-pounced at her tail, reared and galloped in a stunning display of grace and power. Through it all, Cassian wept, and had to stumble back to a bench to sit. He followed, for the sake of his fiance as much as to get out of the dragons’ way. Sitting close, he wrapped an arm over Cassian’s shoulders and pulled him in, rubbing slow circles through his coat.

“Looks like I was being a bit too negative. But, who _wouldn't_ fall for her charms?” he chuckled.

Cassian could only nod, sniffling despite his bright grin. After another lap Foxglove came scampering right back, hurling herself at their knees with the stranger right behind her. She stopped, settled back on her haunches and just… _looked_ as Foxglove clambered up into their laps.

“We need a name for them. All of them.” Cassian mused, “I'm sure whatever that _hunter_ picked is horrid. Maybe ‘Sting-Scythe’ or ‘Sickle-Scale’...”

Eret just hummed, and the dragon craned her neck a little, sniffing politely. There was almost a flicker in her eyes and her pupils blew wide as she sniffed near Cassian’s cheek, then her claw. She bowed her head low, thrumming sadly.

“It was not your fault dear heart, the venom changed you. It made you _wild._ That is not what you are, not without cause…” he murmured, offering a hand to her, “The rest of your pack is close, we can take you to them.”

She perked at that, rolling her massive head into his palm. Those eyes were just _too_ smart, and a shiver crawled up Eret’s spine.

“I'm sure they're in better sorts too, but let's see if we can't find that Prickleboggle…” Cassian continued.

A passing Thunderclaw was more than happy to guide the Sickle-Scale up to Berk proper, since they didn't dare ride her. Not yet at least, but he could tell Cassian was eager to try. That's just how he was, with that daredevil streak fit to give Hiccup a run for his money. They just went back up the stairs with Foxglove at their heels, meeting the larger dragon at the cliff’s edge. She had just parked herself there to watch, study, _learn._ He _knew_ Foxglove was going to be too clever for her own good. He took Cassian’s hand once more, and both Sickle-Scales fell into step beside them all the way out to the arena. 

Tuffnut and Ruffnut were waiting, _maybe_ standing guard over the dragons- no. His eyes trained upwards and, suspended on a chain up high, was a cage. The hunter sat slumped against one side, with only a wooden plank between his ass and the bars. Cassian’s grip tightened, but he smoothed a thumb over his dark knuckles. That bastard was exactly where he deserved to be, and the Sickle-Scale seemed to think so too. She hissed, a stuttering, raspy sound like a saw over iron as she flicked her tail forward. His mouth went dry as the plates around the end splayed open and a stinger nearly as long as his _arm_ unsheathed.

“Thor almighty…” he croaked.

“Oh, now _that's_ beautiful.” Ruffnut sighed dreamily.

“We’re bringing her to see the rest of the pack. They won't hurt anyone.” Cassian said. 

The twins looked to each other, then shrugged and started cranking the winches. The doors groaned and the Sickle-Scale needed a little convincing to follow them down, then through the tunnel. But where Foxglove went, she was willing to go too, and she was intent on the trail of her kin. The other Sickle-Scales had gathered in a pile on the far side of the arena, but the twin cries of Foxglove and their companion sent them scrambling, untangling their many limbs. All _six_ dragons milled around Foxglove, cooing and thrilling, nuzzling her, bathing her in slobbery dragon-kisses until she squealed. That brought the pack to a stop and they politely sat back, still thrumming in adoration. Tears pricked at his eyes and Cassian sniffled, and a dozen eyes snapped to them both. Theirs, the first with her red-edged frill, chirped to the others and they _looked_ in that way again.

“You don't have to stay here.” Cassian said, sniffling again, “You're _free.”_

The Sickle-Scales warbled softly before following Foxglove one by one back to the world above. As Cassian watched them go, something fell over him all at once, that _look_ like he was thinking too hard.

“Cass? What's wrong?” he asked.

“If- if they want to leave-” Cassian’s breath hitched, “Foxglove, she belongs with her own kind. I can't force them to stay, or her. She _deserves_ this-”

Eret hugged him tight, blinking away tears, stroking Cassian’s neck, back, shoulders…

“You don't know that’ll happen. And, doesn't _she_ get a choice too?” he took a deep breath, dropping a kiss to Cassian’s brow, “Don't rush so far ahead, this is new for them too.”

Cass sighed, nodded, and before he could speak Toothless swooped overhead, hooting in alarm. Oh, right. They should be keeping an eye on the pack… They jogged back to the clifftop, finding Hiccup, Astrid and Valka gathered under the hunter’s cage with their dragons _and_ the Sickle-Scales flanking them, teeth bared.

“Tuffnut, the winch please. We need to have a little talk with our _guest.”_ Hiccup said.

Tuffnut chuckled darkly, turning a crank to lower the rickety cage. It swayed in the wind and Eret took no small satisfaction in the ugly bruise covering half the man’s face. The gathered dragons snarled and the hunter shrank back on himself.

“So, my father knew of you?” Hiccup asked, cold as iron, _“I_ never heard of a Night Fury hunter, and I asked about them plenty before Toothless came around.”

Valka sneered incredulously, “He knew of no such thing, even before your birth. The coward _lies.”_

“I _am_ the Night Fury killer!” the man squawked, “I’ve killed hundreds!”

“Go on then, stun us with your knowledge.” Astrid goaded.

“They can't tolerate the cold-” the hunter babbled.

“It snows nine months of the year and hails the other three.” Hiccup cut in.

“They mate for life!”

“How would you know that if you just immediately kill them?” Cassian countered, crossing his arms. 

“They can't fly long distances-”

 _“Liar.”_ Hiccup snapped, “Everything you say is a lie. Do you even work for the warlords?”

“Ragnar the Rock, yes.” the hunter barely muttered.

“One of Drago’s old generals.” he confirmed, hating the taste of that name.

 _“_ This is pathetic.” Tuffnut chortled, nudging his sister.

“He looks like he's gonna _cry.”_ Ruffnut agreed.

“They are on their way, the warlords, all of them!” the hunter blurted, lunging at the bars, “They will raid your island, take all your dragons unless-”

“We _know.”_ he said sharply, “And we’re already setting up a nice little surprise for them. I think we’re done here, unless you have information that's actually useful.”

He glared pointedly, and the dragons rumbled. Even Foxglove pounced forward, tail bristling as she hissed wetly. The hunter stared, shocked silent, and slowly looked up.

“Where did you find her?” he croaked, suddenly vulnerable.

“Why don't you ask your _trapper_ friends.” Cassian snarled, and snatched Foxglove up.

“No!” the hunter yelped, “Are you _mad?!_ The stinger!”

Cassian grabbed the end of her tail, locked eyes with the hunter, and he poked himself in the cheek a few times with the closed stinger-bulb.

“Oh no, I'm _dying.”_ he deadpanned.

The twins cackled and the hunter just stared, bug-eyed and slack-jawed.

“Funnily enough, dragons respond _well_ to compassion and respect.” Hiccup stalked closer, “We’ll figure out what to do with you once the trappers are taken care of. So, make yourself comfortable and don't go anywhere.”

Ruff and Tuff absolutely _lost_ it, falling over themselves laughing. Hiccup turned back to town and Toothless followed with a contemptuous sneer. But the hunter still watched in utter disbelief as the Sickle-Scales followed after Cassian and Foxglove with no prompting or command. He hung back, waving Cass on when he looked expectantly over his shoulder. Once they were gone, the hunter looked over warily, like a rat in a- well. Cage.

“The only reason you're still alive is because Hiccup doesn't believe for a second you live up to your boasts.” he said slowly, “And he may, _may_ be feeling merciful. I wouldn't test your luck, or _his_ patience. If he makes an offer, take it. Because that's the only chance you're going to get. I know better than most the warlords aren't so keen on being crossed. Or _failed.”_

The hunter quaked, nodded minutely, and he left.

Cassian was waiting at the bridge, of course he was, and the pack stayed with him. Or, more likely, Foxglove. They were absolutely infatuated, which was good to know. They had the key to keeping these dragons happy.

“What was that all about?” Cassian asked as he approached.

“Just passing on some _friendly_ advice.” he answered, “We don't need him getting up to any funny business. What happens next is up to him, and Hiccup.”

Cassian scowled, “I don't like it.”

“If you think about it, he's probably never actually killed a dragon. He's a liar and a braggart, but that doesn't put him in the same league as the rest of the trappers. I think we can safely ship him off.” he shrugged, and Cass sighed.

“As long as he stays away from Foxglove and the pack, I don't care.”

“Well, that's a start…”

***

Cassian didn't like this one bit. Not the warlords coming, not the hunter being _here._ But… Foxglove had never been happier and the pack hadn’t even been awake for a full day. Despite his best efforts, he found himself naming them, or just the first one for now. _Nightshade_ suited the blue-black sheen of her armor, and she seemed to like it. Or, she responded at least. The pack followed wherever Foxglove went and tolerated him more or less, but they still acted like the others and shied away from more than the barest touch. 

All but Nightshade.

She was still… cautious, lingering just out of reach. But Foxglove, Datura, even Tyrian drew her in time and time again. Around lunchtime, he found the Nadder and Sickle-Scale walking along, side by side to a fish station, thrumming, chirping, _conversing._ It was eerie. But now it was his turn to keep watch over their ‘guest’ and he wasn't keen on being around that snake. Might as well make himself intimidating to avoid any sort of conversation. He stuffed an apple in one pocket and a dagger in the other, just in case, and started the long walk out. Though he looked for Foxglove along the way, she was nowhere to be seen and his heart sank. Oh well, she deserved to have her fun. He set his feet to the path, still mulling Eret’s words over. The hunter was a coward, a leech, but… the Sickle-Scales had recovered, they were healing. Hiccup and Valka visited the strange flying machine, and agreed that all the Fury skulls were most likely scavenged, not killed. Eret helped when they poured over the rest of the man’s affects and there was just _no_ evidence the ‘hunter’ had ever hunted. The crossbow barely worked and it's quarrels weren't even the right size, it was laughable. The only thing he seemed to be good at was making _maps._ He could've made quite the name for himself just with that, but the allure of fame had poisoned his mind decades ago. They should be leading by example.

He was nearly to the bridge when Nightshade swooped down with Tyrian right behind her, both landing lightly, but the Nadder sprinted ahead to drop his chin on Cassian’s shoulder. He resigned himself to his fate.

“Alright, come along then. I'm not gonna be doing anything interesting you know.”

Tyrian just clucked and trotted along beside him, with Nightshade trailing at a distance. Strange, Foxglove was with the rest of the pack… But she was hanging around of her own will, that was a good sign. Though, he shouldn't put too much stock in that, not yet.

The twins bolted to their Zippleback as soon as they spotted him, but he expected no less. The cage was still lowered, but with the winds rising… it was best to leave it where it was. There was a crate close by so he sat, and Tyrian settled down beside him, folding down one leg at a time. Nightshade still kept a little distance, but relaxed in her own way. Tyrian seemed quite _taken_ with her, staring openly and chirping like he was inviting her closer, right to his side even. It was sweet. In… a strange way. Dragons of such a different kind… He should be watching the prisoner.

When he looked up, the hunter quickly averted his eyes.

Let him stare. What could he do about it? Cassian huffed, pulled the dagger from his pocket and gave it a little twirl over his fingers before setting it at his side. There wasn't really anything to _do,_ the hunter had nothing on him, no allies… This was just a precaution. 

Within half an hour, more dragons filtered in. Datura arrived first, followed quickly by Crucible and Andarax, then the whole Sickle-Scale pack carrying Foxglove along. Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Really?” he scoffed, _“All_ of you?”

Datura snorted and crawled into his lap, flopping her full weight down on him.

“You're getting _fat_ little pearl, you'll break something one of these days.”

The Light Fury paid him no mind, and Foxglove joined them for good measure.

 _“_ Infants _,_ the both of you.” he shook his head fondly.

“How are you _doing_ that?”

Head snapping up at the sound, he found the hunter staring in equal awe and terror.

“I am ‘doing’ nothing. They chose this.” he sniffed, “I don't know where you came from, but I'm sure you heard all the same things as everyone here. Dragons are _not_ monsters, they are not mindless _,_ and they have every right to live free.”

The hunter scoffed, _“_ Childish is what you lot are. You think _them_ our equals?”

The gathered dragons bristled at his tone, growling a low warning.

“Yes, I _do.”_ he snapped, “Can they not love? Do they not raise families? They are compassionate, and that is more than can be said for _you.”_

The hunter shrank back from his stare, his voice- he knew that look. He knew that look _well._ That of a child passed over, starved for praise and attention save for when they did something wrong.

“So, how many brothers? You can't be the oldest of them, I'm sure you were always at the back of the pack. You needed bigger and better ways to get attention and when _dragons_ are social currency-” he sneered, “Well, you just picked the biggest prize and told the best story. Once you got a taste, ‘once’ wasn't enough. The lies got bigger, grander, then you had to run before anyone found you out.”

The hunter blanched, _“H-how-”_

_“Some_ forgotten sons don't waste their lives chasing after the ghosts of approval. How do you think I got here, magic?” he snorted in amusement.

The hunter blinked owlishly.

“The chief is actually impressed with your maps.” he continued, “You could’ve built something truly great instead of hunting _words._ Surely you can't be more than 50, all those years… and what do you have to show for it?”

“Do you _delight_ in this?” the hunter hissed, flushed with fury and shame.

 _“_ Yes actually.” he smirked, fished out his apple and took a deep bite.

“I am not a young man anymore-”

“Are you _dead?”_

The hunter squinted.

“You are not young.” Cassian repeated, “But are you _dead_ yet?”

The hunter scowled, _“No._ And your point?”

“Then it's not too late you fool. The world opens wide to the south, there is always a need for someone who can make a map worth a damn.” he rolled his eyes.

The hunter huffed, but hunched in on himself and said nothing more. 

Fishlegs relieved him in the next hour and the whole dragon pack left with him. Most went back towards Berk, but Tyrian and Nightshade remained, looking to him expectantly.

“Oh no you don't, you're going on your walk. Come.” he tugged around the Nadder’s neck

Tyrian stood firm and nudged him closer instead, bowing low and offering his back. He- they shouldn't. Not without a saddle, but… damn it all it had been too long. He climbed up, almost slipping with nothing to hold, but settled in his proper place and held tight with his knees.

“Go _gently_ now, just across the bridge. No wild flying.” he said firmly.

Tyrian clucked, turning and raising his wings to the wind. With a flutter they were weightless and a flap they were off, coasting along the cliff easy as a dream. He half-expected Nightshade to follow, but his heart soared anyway when she fell in off Tyrian’s right wing. The dragons crooned so sweetly to each other, back and forth, and before he could protest the dragons peeled away from their course. Nightshade lead onwards, upwards, higher over the ocean, skimming clouds and tumbling in the breeze. Tyrian thankfully did _not_ do the same and flew level for his sake. If only they had gone back for the _saddle._ Nightshade wheeled and Tyrian followed, together they _spun_ almost wingtip to wingtip, weaving in and out, back and forth.

“Tyrian, _easy-”_ he grunted.

The Nadder paid him no mind and _rolled._ Cassian was thrown, flung to the side before the earth called him back. He righted himself quickly, aimed head-down and prayed the dragons had their wits about them. The world was a blur of wind, only made worse when he fell into a cloud but- Thank God in heaven, there was _some_ shape beside him, falling at his pace. With a wild grab he grappled closer, tried to hold on-

This wasn't Tyrian. The tall armor plates stabbing into his gut were not of a Nadder. He had to roll, slot himself between the peaks of the armor and though it hurt his hands he held _tight_ as Nightshade swooped up and away. She leveled out and awkwardly looked back, gurgling in concern. He huffed a bewildered laugh, trying and failing to settle more comfortably. All these _plates,_ there was no way to sit properly… Tyrian caught up in a rush, flailing to slow down as he let out an apologetic whine.

“It's alright! Let's- let's get back home.”

Tyrian led the way and Nightshade kept sneaking back little glances, her pupils wide and round. She… wasn't bucking him off. She came to _him._ Tyrian showed her to their home and landed first, stumbling on his stiff leg, before he shuffled down the path and into the stall, probably for a softer resting spot. Nightshade tried to be gentle, but he still lost his grip and rolled off her wing, tumbling into the grass. He lay there a moment just trying to catch his breath and she watched, head tilting minutely. Slowly, he lurched to his feet, still unspeakably sore all over, and extended a shaking hand. Nightshade hesitated, sniffing first before rolling her nose into his palm. She thrummed, eyes slipping shut as he scratched up her brow, then down to her jaw, frill, along the fringes of her armor plates, then peered at her wounds. The bandages were spotted with blood, some of it fresh, and the smell was… offputting. Those wounds must be draining.

“Forgive me, I'm just going to look.” he murmured, patting her thick hide.

He rolled the edge of the bandage back, wincing when it stuck fast. But the wounds were still capped with scabs that only leaked around the edges, mostly a milky, pinkish fluid. The area must be so sore… they should find that Prickleboggle again.

“It's not so bad my dear, I'm sure you'll be whole and hale in a few days.”

Nightshade sighed, barrel-chest heaving with the force of it.

“Now don't be that way, Berk isn't such a bad place to live! All the food you can eat, the whole forest to explore, dens in the cliffs…” he absently patted her shoulder, “But, bad men are coming, and we have to stop them so they never hurt anyone else.”

He bit his lip and took a step back. Tyrian needed him too, and he still had no dragon to ride. They were running out of time. He _could_ fly with Eret and Skullcrusher, but if they were avoiding grounded battle, what was the point? Maybe Tyrian wasn’t in such a bad way-

He froze in the doorway of the den.

Tyrian slowly turned in place, limping on his bad leg as he bedded down, rolling to his side to stretch and weakly flex his claws. His throat squeezed shut and he stumbled in, dropping to his knees at the Nadder’s side. With shaking hands he kneaded around the pink scar in deep, slow circles, from knee to ankle and back again, until the dragon sighed wearily. Who was he fooling, Tyrian was in no shape to fight. A shadow filled the doorway and he could barely muster the energy to look. Nightshade crooned, hesitantly taking another step in.

“It's- it's alright.” he said weakly, “So long as Skullcrusher’s not here, there's plenty of room.”

The Sickle-Scale eased in one claw at a time, nuzzling Tyrian so sweetly, but then she looked to the wall above. Right, Tyrian’s saddle, still where he left it. She stared, looking between that and the Nadder, that _gleam_ coming to her eyes again. She finally turned her golden gaze to him, head tilting ever so slightly. _Asking._

“We were freeing other dragons from trappers, and got separated in the battle. He was caught, wounded- wounded _badly.”_ he pulled in a shuddering breath, “He isn't healed yet, his leg is weak. It isn't safe for him to fight in the war coming to us.”

Nightshade keened, pressing her brow to Tyrian’s. The Nadder purred under his breath, nuzzling her in turn and he pushed her, bit by bit, towards _him_. She chirped in confusion, even as her head settled in his hands.

“Tyrian, what-” he protested.

The Nadder clucked, nudging her once more. He looked to her with a plaintive whine, almost a _plea,_ and she glanced to the saddle again, longer this time, _considering_ it. Her eyes slid shut and after a time she let out a rippling chuff, nosing into his chest.

“Thank you.” he croaked, ducking under her jaw to hug her neck.

But he couldn't snuggle dragons all day. He sniffed, scrubbed his eyes, and staggered to his feet. There was no way Tyrian’s saddle would fit, but they should be able to whip up a little something. Where to _put_ it though…

“Nightshade my dear, you would honor me by coming along to the smithy.” he said.

As they walked, he studied. There was a fair bit of room between her towering head-frill and the first sloping back-plate, perhaps enough to strap in a cushioned seat and stirrups. Just enough to hold on, and keep away from her wounds. Those were quite far up so it might not be a problem… He should check with Valka too, on that matter. As the approached the smithy doors, Hiccup, Eret and Gobber were all hard at work but stopped one by one to look up.

“She’s volunteered.” he said simply.

Hiccup considered a moment, lips pursed while Eret set his work aside to come closer.

“I was _thinking_ we could get a seat here, with a few straps around the legs to hold it back against this first plate.” he explained, tracing shapes out over the dragon.

Eret nodded slowly, “I see what you mean. Just a little wooden framing for the base and sides, some padding, we’ll need to keep away from those scars too…”

“And maybe straps at the top of the seat to go around the plate, to keep it steady. I should be able to hold on to her frill as long as there are knee-bars, like Tyrian’s.”

“I'll get the wood, you start the leather.”

He nodded, and they set to work. Nightshade settled down outside the door, taking their constant measurements and prodding in stride as they built up the spartan saddle. It was just enough to keep his backside in place, he lavished much more effort on padding the straps, buckles, and underside of the seat. He could bear a little discomfort, but he wouldn't ask _her_ to do the same. There should be time for her to recover, and to train together…

“Are any of the scouts back?” he dared ask.

“Not yet, but they should be soon. I don't think it'll be more than a week.” Hiccup frowned, “We’ll start drilling tomorrow, the whole village. I've been working on tactics.”

He nodded. He thought as much.

The saddle was done by dinner and passed it's final fitting, but Cassian removed it for the night.

“You go eat your fill and rest where you like, you can meet me at our house in the morning. We’ll have much to practice, you and I…” he sighed, and scratched her chin.

Nightshade was coolly silent, blinking slowly once, twice, before nuzzling gently under his jaw. Sure she slobbered all over him, but it was a sweet gesture nonetheless.

“I can't thank you enough.” he said again, “But I mean it, go rest. You've earned it.”

She chuffed, that sawblade-stuttery sound from deep in her chest, and trundled off.

***

“Are you _sure_ you're alright?” he found himself asking again.

Cassian sighed, loving and long-suffering, “Yes, _really._ Just sore.”

He helped pull the tunic over Cassian’s head. He knew the hesitation in those shoulders, the reactive tensing in his back, Cass was _hurting_ and didn't want to admit it.

“Lay down, I'll be right back.” he murmured.

He slipped downstairs, finding their new _glass_ bottle of flax oil and returned-

Oh the little _tease._

Cassian had thrown back the covers and laid himself out in nothing but his smallclothes, stretching out to be _seen._ But, he was unmarred, that was what mattered.

“Alright, roll over.” he shook his head.

Cass blinked, caught off guard for a moment, but he did as was asked with an almost... _eager_ anticipation. He breathed deep and climbed onto the bed, straddling Cassian’s thighs and pressed a hand between his shoulders, gently easing him down and Cass _shuddered._ What was that all about? Its not like he was in any shape to- Oh. He swallowed hard and pulled the stopper, pouring a little oil into his palm before setting the bottle aside.

“Just gonna help you relax.” he said gently.

He spread the oil over his hands to warm it and planted his palms into the small of Cassian’s back, rolling firmly upwards, _digging_ his thumbs in along the spine. Cassian jumped under him, groaning as his back arched sharply, coiling and _strong._ He ducked down, laying kisses between those broad shoulders, higher to the back of his neck, behind his ear… His fingertips dug into the barest space between Cassian’s ribs, following the curve of them down and back, kneading the broad planes of muscle. But _shoulders_ were the problem here. The knots were like stones under his skin, twisted against the crests of his shoulder blades. One side at a time, Eret dug his thumbs and knuckles and palms into the corded muscle, from spine to shoulder-arch, bicep to forearm, wrist, even kneading Cassian’s _hands_ between his until he was boneless and pliant as dough-

And fast asleep.

That just meant he did his job well. He corked the bottle, blew out the candle, and tucked the both of them into bed, kissing the scars on Cassian’s cheeks.

***

Nightshade was… conflicted about the saddle as he strapped it on. She seemed to understand the _need,_ but it was an utterly alien sensation she struggled to not-rebel against. But Tyrian preened over her, utterly _smitten_ as he pranced around, fluttering his wings like some kind of dance. Cassian chuckled, and ducked back into the smithy.

“Uh. Wow.” Astrid winced, “That's… cute?”

“Aw, let him have his fun!” Gobber scolded, “At least he has taste.”

Astrid looked on, at once incredulous and almost scandalized, and Eret snickered.

“You can't say he doesn't take after his _rider.”_ he quipped.

Cassian spluttered indignantly at the whetstone, “What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Eret cackled over his woodwork until Astrid swatted his arm. He glowered hotly at them both over the spinning gears and belts. He did _not_ fawn like a Nadder, or _preen._ Huffing and red-faced, he went back to sharpening his knives, and a whole pile of other weapons. The fleet was five days away, not a week like they hoped, there was no time to lose. They had to learn each other, get used to tight flying. The masts and rails would not be kind to them, but he was ten times the rider he was on the day he first ran the Kraken’s arms and Nightshade was surely older than Tyrian, more experienced. It would not be impossible, and they had a little time before Hiccup started the village-wide drills. Better get started… He set his knives aside for now, and made his way out.

“Alright me dear, shall we begin?” he asked, dusting off his hands.

Nightshade wiggled, rolling her shoulders a little uncertainly, but rose to her feet and offered a claw for him to step up. Her armor was strong, he didn't worry too much about using bits of her as stairs. The seat held firm, just enough for his legs to hold fast to with a bit of raised pommel in the center like a proper horse saddle. That was mostly to keep him from sliding forward, and the stirrups were built right into the harness on her sides. He could _just_ see over the high point of her frill, and that would be enough. She didn't have the same blind spot as Tyrian, he would have to trust her judgement .

“Well, I think we can start slow. How about I show you around?” he patted her neck.

Tyrian quarked, looking to him expectantly, almost _begging._

“Yes, you can come too _._ I won't stop true love.” he shook his head fondly.

The Nadder thrilled and shot into the sky, and Nightshade rocketed after. She flew nothing like him, this was more like Skullcrusher’s explosive power. Her wings were longer and broader, sweeping in deep, crushing strokes that threw her high, far, _fast._ His legs shook with the effort of just holding on, and it occurred to him that _this_ must be what it was like to fly with a Night Fury. Nightshade and Tyrian fell into step, wing to wing, coasting along the cliffs past the arena. He flicked a mocking salute to the cage, but didn't care to see if the hunter was looking.

 _“This_ is Berk.” he said over the wind, “It can be cold, and it will only get colder when the sun grants us less time. But it is _home._ Some were born and bred here through 300 years, and some of us come from near and far. Very far. But we welcome them all, and we protect our own to the last. We will bring peace to the north and see dragons free to roam the seas and skies. It is as much _your_ right to live in the sun as ours.”

Nightshade thrummed, sweeping wide around a cliff spire.

“There is more than enough room for you and your pack, if you wanted to visit. Or-”

He hesitated, and did not finish. They had to choose for themselves, it was their right. Tyrian warbled, showing off a little twirl before goading Nightshade after him. He led her on to all their haunts; the rivers and sand deposits, the hidden beach, the wildberry grotto, the giant sea stack forest… They just flew, all around the island as they got used to each other’s motions and habits. While Nightshade was swift and capable of great bursts of power and speed, she was not _quite_ as nimble as Tyrian. She could turn quickly for sure, but needed more space to do so. He would have to be careful.

They had to return for the drill before noon, but he wasn’t worried. Hiccup was sure to have a plan and as pathetic as these warlords were, they probably wouldn't need to do much to outwit them. They had overwhelming numbers and firepower, and _they_ were laying the trap. He stewed the whole way back to Berk, while trying to avoid the pervasive _what-ifs._ Hiccup would know what to do. Nightshade took them down in the square and his hips ached when he could finally flop out of her saddle. This would take some work… her neck was thicker than Tyrian’s whole torso and holding on was a strain. He limped a few steps and stretched his aching back before joining the throng heading to the Great Hall. Hiccup, Astrid, all the riders stood at the head table pouring over their maps and he pushed to the front of the crowd. It wasn't his place to join them but he had helped from a distance, mulling over ideas with Eret late into the night. The _best_ minds of Berk were on this. He knew where his strengths were, and it was only occasionally in strategy.

The hall was full, and Hiccup held up his hand for silence. It fell hard and fast.

“The trappers are coming, and we’re going to best them at their own game.” he said, grinning faintly, “We'll bait them close to the village, and strike from above. The bulk of our dragons will hide in the hangar and the caves until the armada is in position, everyone else will circle above the island. We need things to look _chaotic.”_

 _“_ Our specialty.” Ruffnut cracked her knuckles.

“Yes, we _know.”_ Astrid groaned.

 _“_ Anyway, once the ships close in, we’ll fly out in force. The sharpshooters will strike first and take out their weapons, starting with their flagship. Zipplebacks go next to clear the decks, moving from the outside back towards Berk. Then, we go after the cages. Grab them and dump them by the rocks, we can salvage the iron later.” Hiccup, always so practical, “Once the decks are empty, I'll move in with the riders to corner the warlords. Everyone else will hold off, until we give the signal. They get _one_ chance to leave. If they refuse…”

Hiccup sighed, leaning heavily on the table. The other riders, _Eret,_ turned somber.

“If they refuse, we sink them all. By any means.”

A resigned murmur rippled through the hall, and Cassian drew a slow breath. Yes, he had killed here, and in the past, but he did not delight in it. And he wanted no more blood on his hands. But if that was needed, for the sake of Berk… he would do what he must. He caught Eret’s eye somehow and nodded once, lips pressed thin.

“So, we’ll start practicing. Gronckles, Terrors, and Nadders are on the sharpshooter teams and everyone that isn't a Zippleback will handle cages, especially Snafflefangs, Nightmares, Thunderclaws, anything big. We need to be prepared for any possible angle of attack and the trappers not playing along. If any dragons are captured, your priority is freeing them however you need to. Let's get _flying.”_

The villagers filed out slowly, shouting for their dragons on the steps and slopes. But he held back to wait for Eret. He looked so much more _tired_ than he had this morning, worn thin, eyes dull…

“So, how does she fly?” Eret asked as he strolled over.

“As fast as Tyrian and as strong as Skullcrusher.” he groaned as he stretched once more, “And as broad as a _barrel._ I will need more practice.”

“Well, try to pace yourself. No more late nights either.”

He instinctively rolled into the arm Eret slipped around his shoulders, and fell into step to join the rest of the village. But the bags under Eret’s bloodshot eyes weighed on him, and outside on the path he dragged Eret into a quiet space between two houses.

“Cass, what-”

“Are you alright?” he asked, squeezing Eret’s hands.

He could see the instinctive ‘I'm fine’ form in Eret’s eyes, catch on his lips, but he sighed, brows knitting tight.

“Just… a bad dream. Bad memories.” he confessed, “Didn't sleep well.”

“...from the last time?” Cassian guessed.

Eret nodded, averting his eyes. Cassian had to stand on his toes to pull him down for a quick, chaste kiss, then wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“I am _here,_ and I will be with you. So long as I'm _breathing_ no one will harm you again.”

Eret nodded minutely against him, breathing deep to steady himself. After one kiss, then another, and they forced themselves apart to find their dragons and join the army above.

They drilled for hours, flying in force and diving in waves, moving in and out of striking positions… It was exhausting, for man and dragon alike. But they could leave nothing to chance, and they could rest all day before the armada arrived. If they could end this _now..._ it would be worth all the effort they could spare.

Dinner was a quiet affair, no one had the spirit to speak more than a few words and Eret looked even _worse_ for wear. So, Cassian dragged him home and ignored his protests.

“But I need to-”

“No. We’re going home, and you are going to sit in bed and relax and _sleep.”_

Eret sighed, but allowed himself to be steered home and to the hearth for a scrub-down and change of clothes. His bruises were nearly gone now, the one under his eye was a sallow afterthought and his split lip was a worried-red scar. The scabs on his own cheek itched terribly, that cut must be healing.

“Come, to bed with you.” he gently tugged Eret’s hands.

In the loft he took up his lute, and they both crawled into bed. He sat up enough to play properly, almost crammed in the corner as he tried to half-face Eret. He had been mulling over those words, so familiar in _Andalusi_ but still strange and unwieldy in Norse now that they were translated. He was no poet, not like his brothers, but he'd done the best he could. He didn't even need to look at the strings as he plucked the first cords, watching instead as a small smile tugged at Eret’s lips. That quickly dropped with a flicker of surprise as the words he expected were replaced with something new.

_Once there was gold, over the sea,_

_Out on the blue._

_Once there was sky, welcoming wings,_

_And we flew._

_Once there was a sun, filling my eyes,_

_Under you._

_Once there was a song, filling my heart,_

_Calling you, only you, always you._

_Once there were stars, over the sky,_

_Falling in hand._

_Once there were waves, calling a name,_

_Writing in sand._

_Once there were storms, howling away,_

_Rolling to land_

_Once there was a sail, filling with wind,_

_It took you away._

_Once I had the sun, in my hands,_

_Dawn to day._

_Once my heart had wings, open to you,_

_Where sleepers lay._

_Once I heard your heart, beating strong,_

_More to say._

_Once I knew your eyes, as my own,_

_Souls as one, singing true…_

_Singing true…_

_Singing true…_

_Once we may have been once, currents tore us away,_

_Once more we may meet, and together stay._

_Once stars align, our hands become one, never to part,_

_Once clouds fall, in shadow we sail, back to the start._

_Once there was gold,_

_Once there were stars,_

_Once I had the sun,_

_And now we are one-_

A look he could not name crossed Eret’s face. Before the song was even properly finished he nudged the lute aside and dragged Cassian close to kiss him deep, with a passion he could feel in his _bones._ When he could bear to open his eyes and steal a breath, his heart seized. _Tears_ tracked down Eret’s face, he struggled to hide his shaking hands, shuddering breaths-

Those honey-brown eyes opened and knew exactly what he intended to ask, before his lips could even part.

“I can’t _lose_ you.” Eret rasped.

He raked his fingers through Eret’s hair, buried his face in the crook of his neck, shoulder, _all_ of him. Eret quaked, holding on like his life depended on it. What had haunted him in the night? What had he _seen_ in that last battle for Berk? If it left Eret terrified to this day-

 _“Nothing_ will happen to me, or you, or anyone else.” he murmured, “We will send them running or to the depths as they choose. But no matter _what_ happens-”

He pulled away enough to cradle Eret’s face in his hands, wiping away a stray tear. If the worst should happen, God spare him, he wanted to say this _now._

“-know that I am here, and that _I love you.”_

Eret’s breath left him in a rush, and he stared as fresh tears welled in his eyes.

“I-” he choked on his words.

“I know. I don't need to hear three little words to believe it.” Cassian pressed their brows together, “But never doubt yourself. And believe in _me._ There is nothing on this earth that could keep me from you.”

***

He slept, long, deep, and dreamless, waking to find Cassian sprawled over his chest, snoring lightly. Freya take him, his heart could rip itself in two from the tender _ache_ that roared through him. There was time before training, _they_ had time. If something, anything went wrong, this was what he wanted to remember. The warmth of him, the weight, his _love-_

His throat ached, threatening to wrest more tears from him.

He _knew_ of course, deep down, but hearing that out loud, spoken as sweet as a prayer… it set something in him ablaze and he feared nothing _._ Cassian loved him in spite- _because_ of everything, and he took a moment to thank every god in turn for it. 

The armada would be here in three more days. They couldn't spare much more time. Berk would train this day and the next, though more lightly, then have a day of rest… and then prepare for war.

They rode to exhaustion, went home, passed out, and rose the next morning to do it all again. Even he had his limits tested and Cassian… he was fit to drop. When they finally got to their day off, neither could will themselves to move, even as their stomachs roared for food. Everything _hurt…_ and he knew just the thing to take care of that. Once he could get himself out of bed, get something to eat, get _Cassian_ out of bed… A few kisses got his lover's head lifting, enough to slide out and downstairs for a quick meal of jam on bread. There was a little of the spring batch left, best use it up...

“Eret..?” Cassian called groggily.

“Coming luv.” he replied without thinking.

He flushed all over a moment later, a bashful smile tugging at his mouth even though there was no one to see. He returned to the loft, plate in hand, and found Cass finally forcing himself upright, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes. The light streaming in made him _glow,_ gold edging every dark inch of his skin.

“Alright, scoot. And eat up.” he passed the plate over, “I think we _both_ need a trip to the spring. Before… before tomorrow.”

His smile dropped, but Cassian took his hand, squeezing gently. They had _nothing_ to fear, not fighting as one. They ate, dressed enough to be polite, gathered their towels and roused Skullcrusher for a ride out. For some reason, Datura saw fit to tag along and he didn't have the heart to shoo her off.

The walk in was familiar, and the wash of hot, steamy air lent some strength to Cassian’s step. Datura still followed, increasingly curious and… eager? She even shot ahead, right into the cave with a shocked squeal.

“What- Datura, wait!” Cassian hobbled after her.

Datura lit up in the cavelight like their scaled clothes had, blazing in golden speckles like stars and she was climbing the walls, _eating the mushrooms no-_

He yanked her away from yet another mushroom, “No, spit that out!”

“Datura _no-”_ Cassian tried to wedge her mouth open as she struggled.

And swallowed.

“Oh no.”

One solid kick to the gut forced him to drop her and Datura scuttled back outside. What the Hel was she doing?! They both chased after and found the Fury rearing back, jaw gaping wide-

A bolt of light shot down the mountain pass, exploding into a rainbow flurry of fire, throwing out long arcs of color that lingered far longer than it rightly should. He looked to Cassian, who looked to _him,_ then back to the shimmering flame and smoke, while Datura squealed in delight.

“I've never seen her use her fire.” Cassian finally said.

“No way you could miss _that.”_ Eret muttered.

But one of those looks, the _thinking_ ones, crossed Cassian’s face.

“What if… she couldn't? Without those mushrooms.” he glanced back to the cave, “So, those same mushrooms would have to exist where she lived. And if they're the same… they got _here_ somehow, through the caves. They must go deeper, spread all over.”

Damn. Maybe they should be exploring those caves again.

“Let's get relaxing, we can think about all that later.” he took Cassian’s hand.

They returned to the cave and Datura followed, dedicating herself to a mushroom feast and bothering the Fireworms. Whatever kept her entertained, he supposed. At the pools he pulled off his boots and tugged at the laces of his trousers, only for his hands to be batted away. Cassian smiled, sweet and almost _seductive_ as warm hands slid under his tunic, rucking it up until he was forced to raise his arms and pull it off himself. Cass took that moment of distraction to pull his trousers open and slide them down his hips, thighs… Eret shivered, but he was too worn for more than a faint flush, a _thrum_ of arousal. He kicked his pants aside and tugged on Cassian’s tunic, slipping it off over his head. Once his boots and trousers gone, they both settled up to their necks in the hot pool, content to just… sit, side by side. It took time, but the heat and weightlessness let him relax every muscle, soothing his aches and pains. But Cassian shifted, flexing and rolling his shoulders, he must be sore still…

“Here, sit in front…” he curled an arm around Cassian’s waist, pulling him over.

He sighed, raspy and deep as Eret dug his fingers into the meat of his shoulders, back of his neck, spine, _all_ of him. He dared go lower, kneading the great bandy muscles of his hips, waist, thighs… Cassian shuddered as his hands dipped inward, stroking gently back up, _around._

_“Eret-”_

He dropped a kiss on Cassian’s shoulder, and a few more up his neck, against his pulse _._

“Yes?” he murmured, right against the shell of his ear.

Cassian twisted and dragged him into a kiss, sloppy and awkwardly-angled but _good._ Maybe he had the energy after all. With a little pushing and pulling Cassian was straddling his lap once more, grinding down, moaning into his mouth. _This_ Cassian was something else entirely, wild and burning, all reservations gone, all for him. _Only_ for him. Maybe someone had gotten a glimpse in the past, but _this_ was his alone. He kissed deeper, tongue flicking at Cassian’s lips and he opened himself to more. He only had to ask and there was always _more._

Cassian pulled away with a ragged gasp and pushed at his chest, _“Up.”_

“What-”

“Up, sit on the ledge.” he demanded, pushing again.

Confused, he obeyed anyway and barely settled before Cassian slid between his legs, spreading him wider. Being able to actually _watch_ Cass stroke him, with new weight and friction-

He almost collapsed when Cassian ducked down and _kissed_ the tip of his cock, licking his lips as he glanced up with blown-black eyes.

“Okay?” he asked, voice raw and husky.

Eret could only nod, dizzy with _want_ and Cassian drew a deep breath, _kissed_ him again, licked, _swallowed him down-_ He tried and failed to muffle the moan that burst from him. The wet _heat_ of his mouth, the curl of his _tongue,_ sure his teeth scraped a few times but he soothed those spots with kisses when he broke for air, still stroking him with a tight fist.

 _“Cass-_ ” he gasped, raking his fingers through those long coils-

A pulse of pleasure sent his hand clenching, tugging hard at his hair and Cassian _moaned,_ squeezing him harder in turn.

“Sorry, sorry…” he quickly let go, soothing where he had pulled.

But Cassian pressed his hand back.

“Do that again.” he ordered.

Eret shuddered. That _voice,_ the sudden timbre of _command_ compelled him to obey. He dug his fingers in again and tugged, gentle but firm and Cassian’s back arched so beautifully as his free hand vanished below the surface- Had he been neglecting himself all this time? Either way, he knew he wouldn't last forever. Especially not with the way Cassian’s lips stretched around his cock, cheeks hollowing as he sucked- He never would've dared to ask for this, shouldn't it be demeaning, humiliating? No, no that was stupid, this was _Cass_ and he would never think giving pleasure made him weak. If anything, he was the one in charge, dominating _him,_ pinning him in place with the sweetest touches. He shuddered again, feeling himself twitch in Cass's mouth, against his tongue as it curled, traced a vein, his crown-

He could feel himself coiling, twisting down to the core, growing _tight_ after just a few more strokes and rolls of fingers and tongue, and… well it wouldn't be polite not to warn him.

“Cass, gonna-” he choked out, trying to pull his lover away.

He shook, shivering all over as pleasure took him hard and fast, while Cassian stroked him through it. When he could finally wrench his eyes open he nearly fell flat. Cassian still knelt between his legs, breathing hard, face streaked with white, tongue flicking to sweep up the few drops that fell on his lips-

Only to grimace at the taste.

Eret slid bonelessly back into the water, pulling close to help wipe his mess off. But it wasn't just Cassian’s face. His throat, chest, shoulders, were somehow all splattered, _marked,_ and the image sent something primal in him purring as he hastened to clean…

“I'm sorry, I-” he started to apologize.

Cassian cut him off with a kiss, slow and so deep he could taste his own seed on Cassian’s tongue. It… wasn't particularly nice but he ignored that, kissing him again. Let the warlords come, he was _ready._ And he wanted to get this over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the song to go with those spicy lyrics is the same as before:  
> https://youtu.be/Rw65ol7VeEA


	15. Chapter 15

They woke at dawn, neither willing to move as activity ramped up through the village. Cassian sighed, low and weary as he forced himself upwards, and Eret followed suit. They said nothing, just turned and held each other close, heartbeat to heartbeat while they still could. They needed to be ready, the armada would be there no later than noon, and the winds were rising. After a few kisses, they rose for a light breakfast, donned their suits and most of their armor, and joined the growing army. There were many dragons too young or too hurt to fight, Tyrian, Foxglove, Datura, and many more, and they were all led to a sheltered cove by Hiccup and Toothless, deep and deeper into the woods for their own safety. Toothless was gentle and firm in his order to stay, but Foxglove cried as Cassian set her down, clawing at his armor. His heart broke twice over as he pushed her towards Tyrian.

“I'm so sorry, but you have to stay here. Just for today, a little while.” he promised.

The Sickle-Scale keened again, but Tyrian ushered her away to play with Datura and a few other hatchlings. Nightshade rumbled, nudging his shoulder to offer a sympathetic look. It was a blessing, that she seemed to understand. He patted her neck in thanks and vaulted back into the saddle to return to the village with the rest. Berk was a riot of dragons circling, since a scouting ship had been spotted on the horizon. It had turned tail within minutes, back to the armada no doubt, and it would be another hour before the rest of the fleet appeared. From there… they could only hope the warlords played into their hands. There were contingencies of course, but the less they had to change, the better.

Berk was ready. It was just a matter of waiting now and he hated it. There was time enough to eat, drink, relieve himself, and find Eret in the crush of people hiding out of sight from the sea. He needed his helmet and bracers, and Eret was sure to be missing a few pieces of armor too, so home was the logical first stop. In the time since he'd sneakily added his own sigil, Eret hadn’t looked at his armor at all, they hadn’t needed to. If only the surprise wasn't soiled by all this madness...

He edged around Skullcrusher to get to the door, slipping inside and there he stopped. Eret sat before the hearth, looking down at the bracer, at _his_ mark, and jolted when the door ground back into the frame. He scrambled to his feet, crossed the room, and Cassian was ready for the embrace that engulfed him, crushing Eret even closer until their armor creaked. 

“I wasn't going to ask, not for- I don't _know_ how long but, I have to _now._ If something happened, I-” Eret stumbled over his words, “I couldn't live with myself.”

“Eret, what are you talking about?” he pulled back enough to cup Eret’s cheek.

He drew a deep breath, covering Cassian’s hand with his own. 

“If you would have me, I- I would ask for your hand, and offer mine in turn.” he said in a rush.

Cassian’s breath left him in a weak gasp.

“What-”

“I don't care if it's only for us to know, you've already made me happier than I ever thought I could _be_ , I-”

Cassian dragged him down and kissed him deeply, eyes shut tight against burning tears.

 _“Yes.”_ he croaked, once he pulled away, “In this or any lifetime, _yes.”_

Neither could speak, there was too much to feel all at once, overwhelming _love_ and _wholeness-_

And _fear,_ for what was to come. They were running out of time.

“We need to be ready.” Cassian murmured, reluctantly peeling away.

Eret nodded, retrieving his bracer from the floor where it had tumbled from his hands and Cassian insisted on buckling it on himself. The copper Nadder gleamed, bright and new over his wrist to guard his sword-hand. After one last, lingering kiss, they buckled on their helms and left home. No sooner had they closed the door then a great shout rose.

“Sails! Sails on the horizon!”

His heart dropped, and on instinct he looked to Eret.

“Go get Nightshade, it'll still take an hour for them to get into position. We have _time_ Cass.” he said tightly.

He nodded, hugging Eret once more and waded out through the crowd, calling for his dragon. The Sickle-Scale was resting in the long grass between two homes, looking out over the sea. There _were_ sails, first one then dozens fanning out over the horizon, ugly and sea-stained. The dragons still circling above spread out a little more, making a farce of panic and a tantalizing target around the cliffs, where all their ships had been moved to the far side of the island for safety and the sea-dragons waited in the depths to strike from below with the sharpshooters. The trappers were out-foxed, it was just on them to float into the trap. So, he sat in the shade beside his dragon and watched.

And waited.

All the riders hunkered low, out of sight, as the dragons above roared and wailed, drawing the ships further in. The flagship was a hideous, hulking thing at the head of the pack, with some sort of sigil on the sail-

His blood froze, then _boiled_ in his veins. He knew that mark, the very one burned into Eret’s skin. The man that did it may be dead but his ilk were still roaming free, and they would be facing a _reckoning._ Nightshade hissed, but they waited still as the flagship weighed anchor, a little further than they would have liked but the other ships filed in close. _Foolishly_ close. Cassian leapt into the saddle and waited for Toothless to signal the assault, they wanted the ships vulnerable, but not ready _._ The rest of the Sickle-Scale pack found them, filing in to the narrow space behind their one-eyed leader. She looked to him, cooly appraising in her own way, then turned her gaze to the fleet, snarling faintly.

“I don't intend to command you my lady, but we have a plan to drive them off. As much as I would like to send them to the bottom of the ocean, our chief has given us orders to hold back. I only ask that you check your fury until he says otherwise.” he said.

The matron sighed, blinking slow. He would take that as a ‘maybe’. Then, a dark blur shot low overhead, rippling with a bright blue aura-

Toothless roared, long and low and all of Berk answered.

Dragons sprinted into the sky, flying hard and fast to wheel over the armada, well out of reach. Cassian struggled to breathe with his heart firmly lodged in his throat as they rose above the first wave, to join the second. Every able dragon had come to bear, wheeling in formation as they had practiced: Zipplebacks on the fringes, the sharpshooters hung low and the cage-wranglers circled above them. On Toothless’s mark, the sharpshooters fell as one, and he faintly saw Skullcrusher dive towards the flagship. Why, why the _flagship_ of all things? He- he couldn’t break ranks, he had to trust them. Changewings, Nadders, Gronckles, younger Nightmares, and Terrible Terrors joined the fight, raining down fire from above while Sliquifiers and Tide Gliders struck from below, destroying their ballistas and scorpions and net-launchers. Once they ran out of targets, the teams swept up and out of the way of the Zipplebacks as they shot low over the fleet. The dragons spewed their whole noxious payloads over the decks until every single ship was wreathed in a fine green mist.

Sparks flew, and the trappers’ world became _fire._

The stiff breeze cleared the initial smoke in minutes. Under the chocking cover rigging and sails smoldered and burned, and the crews were scattered, taking shelter where they could. Now, it was _their_ turn. Nightshade dove and her pack followed, latching on to cages and hauling them up and away. A few wingbeats more and they pitched the empty iron into the shallows and circled back for more, _shrieking_ fire, and Cassian roared with them. 

***

It was all going to plan. He rode in with the first wave, striking down huge razor-chain launchers on the flagship. It was one of _Drago’s_ old behemoths, ugly and hulking and the very same one he'd almost been pitched off the year before. And now it was so utterly vulnerable without it's weapons, leader, and Bewilderbeast. The satisfaction of blasting it to bits filled the icy pit in his gut with fire _,_ but their turn was over for now. Panicked screams echoed in the Zippleback gas as it blanketed the decks, and the resounding _crack_ of the explosion that followed left his ears ringing. They bided their time as the smoke cleared, catching their breath and getting their bearings. Skullcrusher wasn't really built for hauling, didn't have the claws or grip for it. They'd be running guard for the rest of the Riders once the flock picked the decks clean, which wouldn't be _too_ hard by the looks of it. There were shockingly few cages to pilfer, and there was certainly no time for the trappers to be moving anything below deck on the single ship with a cargo lift. They could've carted off a hundred dragons, maybe 150 at _best._ This was all they could manage for their last stand? The loss of the western fleet really must’ve been the tipping point.

The Crimson Goregutter roared above them and Skullcrusher swerved out of its way, sweeping low and banking wide. _That_ old boy was a warning, not yet a participant. If they wanted the fleet to leave, he would cause _too_ much destruction. But if they refused… he could cut a lesser ship in _half_ if he set his mind to it. The second wave was moving on, circling the edge of the armada with the rest, they best move into position now, track down the other riders. But trappers were finally starting to emerge from their rat-holes, armed to fight or desperate to fight the fires that threatened to sink them. Skullcrusher rounded the stern of the flagship, over the high tiers of the captain’s lodge where anything could be hiding. Best not tempt fate. They banked hard towards the mast, scenting one of the Riders maybe when something _twanged-_

Skullcrusher roared, jerking hard under him towards the center deck but with two hard wingbeats and a splintering _crack_ of wood he ripped the other way, and Eret was thrown from the saddle. He pitched sideways, tumbled off Skullcrusher’s wing, and _fell._ In a blind panic, he somehow grabbed a rope billowing off the mast and almost tore his suit open and his arms from their sockets as he slid to a screaming stop, swinging out over the deck. There his grip failed and he dropped, _too_ far, hit the planks hard. Stars blinded him and he would’ve screamed for the pain in his shoulder if he had the breath left. But there were footsteps, pounding across the deck, coming closer-

He struggled to his feet, left arm hanging limp. _Dislocated._ He drew his sword anyway, pulling a ragged breath through the pain that lanced through his chest. Ribs, probably broken. Before he could even ready to strike a great weight dropped on him, weighing on his head and shoulders and forcing him to one knee. With his helmet knocked askew and one lens shattered, he could barely make out the chain net that covered him. Steel sang as a sword was drawn, but a great, boomingvoice rose above the din. He knew that voice, the timbre, the strange accent. Ragnar the Rock.

 _“No,_ leave him alive! We need hostages!” 

His strength faltered, sapped by the pain of his arms, ribs, head-

The chains gathered around him and he was swept off his feet, dragged away over the deck to a stairwell, into the dark.

 _No, no_ **_NO_ ** _it couldn't end like this, Odin, Freyr, Tyr,_ please-

_Please. If it must..._

_Don't let him see. Spare Cassian that much._

***

The decks were clear, the army retreated below deck as they hoped, so Hiccup's Riders gathered to him. All except Eret, but he'd spotted Skullcrusher in the distance. They would have to go on without him. Toothless rumbled low, not keen on landing _here._

“I know Bud, I don't like it either.” he muttered, “Riders, move in!”

Stormfly and Cloudjumper scattered the trappers that had mustered, making space for them to land on the prow railing. Meatlug hovered overhead, Barf&Belch and Hookfang flanked them, and Toothless roared while he pushed his face plate back.

 _“Where_ are the warlords?” he snapped, sounding too much like his father.

The trappers that remained looked around uncertainly.

“If they won't speak, every last ship will _burn.”_ he snarled, lip curling in disgust.

“Now now, let's not be hasty.”

A tall, broad man strode out from below deck, rising up a set of stairs. His smile was too big, too friendly, like he'd never really smiled in his life and only knew how to fake it. Somewhere, chains rattled.

“You must be chief Hiccup! I'm surprised you-”

“Yeah, you tried your hand at a few _traps._ The first was clever, the second?” he snorted, “I'm almost insulted. Congrats on hiring a fraud _.”_

The man, he must be Ragnar, scowled and his face turned stormy.

 _“Now,_ you have two choices here.” Hiccup continued, “Fight the good fight and you all _die._ Or, live and leave the archipelago forever, on pain of death if you return.”

He glared down and Toothless snarled. But the chains rattled, louder now, and Ragnar smiled darkly. Footsteps, _heavy_ ones stomped up the stairs, more trappers rose dragging something-

His heart dropped, and it took a godly effort to keep his face impassive.

They hauled _Eret_ to the deck, bound in a chain net where he clutched his left arm, injured. _How?_ When had he fallen? Something flickered up on the mast, but he didn't look, not directly. A Sickle-Scale winged away off the boom, and a figure stood up.

 _Cassian._ And no one was looking.

Two more trappers joined the rest, foreign looking, ornately armed and armored. They must be _friends_ of Ragnar’s, the other warlords. Above their heads, Cassian slid down a rope to their level, he had to buy a little more time. So, he whistled low, shaking his head and the warlords stared in utter bafflement. Ragnar scowled, opened his mouth, and Hiccup cut him off.

“Congratulations, that is _almost_ the stupidest thing you could’ve done!” he clapped sarcastically.

Astrid and Snotlout looked at him, sharp and furious.

 _“Hiccup-”_ she hissed, and Stormfly shrieked.

“Now, _Astrid_ would’ve been the worst, we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. But Eret?” he chuckled, “You get to deal with Cassian now. I’d keep my offer in mind, if there's any of _you_ left afterwards.”

All six Sickle-Scales dropped like hammers, effortlessly batting some trappers overboard and driving the rest away. Ragnar took a step back from the one that landed before him, and a boot connected with the side of his head, ringing his helmet like a bell.

***

He only just saw Cloudjumper, and Hookfang peel away to join Toothless- ah, there was Stormfly, and Meatlug too. There were too many masts and sails in the way out here, where was Eret? Be calm, breathe slow, maybe he's just caught on the outskirts. Nightshade rumbled, twisting to glance back and there was a certain worried tremor in the flare of her nostrils. An odd thing to notice, but he'd picked up on that the day before. He soothed the dragon as best he could, scratching at her neck behind the great frill. They could hold out a little longer, let Hiccup work his magic, and keep looking for-

Dragons all around them scattered, driven away by frantic bellows and and alarmed hoots, whipped to a frenzy by _something_. Two Nightmares swerved away and Skullcrusher fell on them in a blind panic, and his saddle was _empty._ Cassian’s heart froze solid, but thankfully Nightshade had the sense to follow where the Rumblehorn led, back to the flagship. They'd been on the fringes of the fleet, _too_ far and his dragon was weary, it took _too_ long. He couldn't breathe _,_ fear strangled him from the inside as every possibility played through his mind. Eret, drowned by the weight of his armor, run through by enemy swords, hurt and holed up, _dying_ _alone_ \- He couldn't even cry.

Nightshade took him to the forward mast and there he dismounted, almost slipping off the boom. Hiccup, Astrid, _all_ the riders were down below and-

A choked sob wrenched from his gut.

 _Eret_ was ringed in by the enemy, trapped, _chained._ He drew a ragged breath that caught in his throat like broken glass and it burned in him, burned like venom, pure _fury._

They would die _screaming._

He found a rope and slid down to the deck, satisfaction roaring through him when the whole Sickle-Scale pack closed in above. They held back just for a moment as he slunk through the shadows, towards the biggest man, closest to Eret and loudest. Hiccup was talking, but he didn't hear a word. _War_ sang in his blood now, like nothing he'd ever felt. It was clearer than that time on the ship, seeing Tyrian hurt. Every step, every breath was pure instinct honing in on one thing: _his fiance._ The Sickle-Scales landed now, driving the rest of the trappers off, the matron harried the big man right to him-

He hauled back and swung his leg high, knocking the mountain of a man clean off his feet. The stupid brass bowl of a helmet rang about his head until it toppled off and bounced across the deck, only to get crushed under Nightshade’s claw. The other warlords were quickly hemmed in by a wall of stingers before they could even lay a hand on their weapons. He shook with rage, ready to _pounce,_ but the rattle of chains drew him to Eret’s side instead, faster than thought. He threw the net off like so much silk and cradled Eret against his chest, rocking weakly. He was moving, breathing, _he was alive._

“My love, I'm here, I'm _here_ please stay with me-” he rasped.

Eret fumbled with the buckle and pushed his helm off, panting, pale, sweaty…

“‘M fine.” he ground out, “Shoulder’s dislocated, gotta-”

“Gothi, we have to get you to Berk-”

Skullcrusher landed hard once the other dragons made room and Snotlout was suddenly _there,_ helping push and pull Eret up, into the saddle, and off this Godforsaken boat. Gobber was back on Berk still, he could help for now, get the armor off, start healing. But Cassian was not done. No, _he was not done._ The tall warlord stumbled to his feet, still reeling and he would _pay._

 _“YOU.”_ he roared, stepped forward-

But Toothless’s tail swept around, barring his way. The warlord stared like he'd seen a ghost, and trappers elsewhere murmured.

“Now as I said, you can leave or you can die. And you're running out of time.” Hiccup snapped.

The warlord fidgeted, looking to his fellows under a forest of stingers.

 _“Ragnar.”_ the woman hissed.

“Today is preferable.” the other quipped as Nightshade drooled on his shoulder.

This ‘Ragnar’ stared at him, and a curious look crossed his face. Then he smiled like a shark.

“I will accept your offer on _one_ condition-”

“You are in _no_ position to bargain.” Hiccup said, voice harder with authority.

“I get to fight _him.”_ Ragnar said anyway.

“You don't-”

 _“I accept.”_ he snarled.

He ignored Hiccup entirely as he unbuckled his helmet and _relished_ the dumbfounded look that struck the smile from Ragnar’s face. Yes, that _was_ the rumor, wasn't it? There was a ‘demon’ on Berk and this monster just picked the fight of his life. He set his helm down beside Eret’s, unsheathing the knives from his back. 

“We both know this bastard deserves to get put in his place.” he said, looking to his chief, “I won't kill him. But he will _pay.”_

Hiccup sighed, long and hard, nodding once and Toothless moved his tail away for him to stride forward. To both their surprise, the Sickle-Scales fanned out, ringing around him and Ragnar, hemming them in. Nightshade kept her stinger leveled at the other two, but she still watched intently. He didn't know what this was about, but a fight burned in his blood and he intended to _win._ Ragnar drew a sword, over-large, too wide at the base, tapering to a laughable point.

He snorted, lips pulling into a wobbling grin despite everything.

 _“Oh-”_ he choked, “Oh that- _That_ is compensating for something.”

The lady-warlord cackled, even the other had to cover his face as his shoulders faintly shook. But Ragnar _seethed,_ lunging with his stupid sword in poor, lopsided form, probably thanks to that kick to the head. He danced out of the way, knocking the next wild swing aside without a thought. Was _this_ what it was like when Eret fought him that first day? He didn't even have to try _,_ it was almost sad. How had this man even become a leader? It didn't matter, this bastard had a _lesson_ to learn. He stepped inside the next wild charge, throwing the whole of his weight behind an uppercut to Ragnar’s jaw, followed by another high-rounding kick to the head. The ridiculous sword clattered to the deck and he tossed it away, circling the prone trapper like a predator, a _shark_ , but the surrounding dragons shifted.

The Sickle-Scales rumbled, and started pounding the deck with their armored claws almost rhythmically, swaying in time to a beat only they knew. He looked to Hiccup and Toothless, then Valka, but they knew no more than he did. This was… so utterly, unnervingly _human_ , even the trappers could sense it. Ragnar groaned and the fury stirred in him, howling in his ears.

“Get _up.”_ he snarled, “Are you a warlord or not? _Did you not_ ask for this?”

Ragnar struggled, levering himself upright and spat a mouthfull of blood onto the deck. Cassian watched as the man staggered to his feet, pulled an axe from somewhere and charged again. This was just _sad._ He hooked a knife into the curve of the ax head and ripped the weapon from Ragnar’s hand, pulling so hard the man stumbled neck-first into the blades of his knives and froze, throat bobbing.

 _“On your knees.”_ he hissed.

Ragnar dropped, dumbfounded, and the dragons still drummed, rattling the deck.

Cassian glared, breath coming in savage pants through clenched teeth as rage sang just below the surface. It would be so _easy,_ a simple flick of the wrist and there would be one less trapper in the world. But under all the fur and finery, a thin leather cord cut into the man’s neck, like a necklace… Eyes narrowing, he slipped the point of a knife under it and pulled, until a rough clay pendant popped out from under Ragnar’s breastplate and genuine _terror_ filled his eyes.

It was a rough thing, made by a child’s hands, an almost-human figure with smaller and smaller nested silhouettes etched on it. A father, mother, two children.

His eyes flicked back to Ragnar’s, boring deep.

“How many _years_ since you’ve seen them?” he said, low and measured, _"_ Many I'm sure. And for what? _This?”_

He gestured wide to the burning armada, and still the Sickle-Scales drummed.

“A _waste._ Go home, and never show your face in these lands again _.”_

He leaned closer, lip curling in disgust.

 _“_ We don't delight in murder and leaving children without their fathers. But if we so much as catch a whiff of you and yours, _I will kill you myself.”_

He tore away and Ragnar slumped, pale and boneless. Just, get away from here, sheath the knives... and around him, the dragon-drumming slowed, then stopped. He paid them no mind, retrieving his helm, Eret’s, and after a thought, Ragnar’s sword as well. It would be a good trophy for the Great Hall, compensating or not. Nightshade nudged under his arm and he turned to find the whole pack gathered close, staring him down.

“What?” he prompted.

The Sickle-Scales thrilled, rolling around him, nuzzling every bit of him they could reach, fighting each other for space until they almost knocked him flat. It was- like how they welcomed _Foxglove._ He pet them back wherever he could, and relished in the shock and awe that struck the trappers silent, even the most stoic warlord. 

“We’ll be escorting _all_ of you out. However long it takes.” Hiccup said loud and clear, “Any ship that tries to run will be sunk _,_ and we will be _watching.”_

He finally managed to cram his helm on and scramble onto Nightshade once Toothless gently scolded the pack, and there he hesitated. He was needed, their plans were still in motion but- Eret was hurt, _hurting,_ he felt that pain as surely as his own. He _had_ to go-

He looked to Hiccup, silently pleading, and his chief nodded minutely. Nightshade needed no prompting, she was already rocketing up and away.

***

Eret didn't want to go, Cassian’s terror was a _force_ around him, he couldn't leave him to face that alone. But Skullcrusher carried him back to Berk, roaring for help and Gobber sprinted as fast as he was able to pull him down.

“I'm fi-” he couldn't even say it as pain lanced through his side.

Gobber and someone else dragged him into his home, sat him down and started pulling his armor off, bracers first, then breastplate.

“I've got this, go get Gothi! Eret lad, stay with me, what is it?” Gobber rasped.

He shook his head, blinking the spots from his vision.

“Ribs.” he wheezed, “Shoulder, out the socket-”

Gobber nodded slowly, taking a few deep breaths before he started the laces.

“Alright, okay, not so bad. Happens to the best of us…” the smith babbled, more to himself.

With the armor off it was easier to breathe, but still painful. Maybe not _broken_ painful, but bad enough to leave him pale and shaking. He tried to focus on _that_ and not any other thought of Cassian in the battle below. The noise was faint, growing fainter, surely they weren't on to the full-scale attack. Cass- Cass would be okay, he had the whole Sickle-Scale pack with him. The back of the suit peeled open and he whimpered.

“I know I'm not the one that usually does this, gonna have to beg your pardon...”

If he had the sense he would’ve been _mortified_ as Gobber pulled his left arm free of the suit, doing his best to preserve a little modesty before he _yanked-_

Eret screamed as his shoulder snapped back into place and the world went dark around the edges.

 _“Breathe_ lad, breathe, it's done.” Gobber said, “Gothi’s here, we can getcha a sling…”

He could only nod, tasting bile with each ragged gasp. His whole arm burned, fire and ice at once as he cradled it against his chest, out of the way for the healer. She probed at his ribs and it was agony, but she was humming. A good sign, that much he knew.

“They aren't broken.” Gobber translated, “Bruised, maybe cracked. All we can do for it is let you rest. And no flying. And no- I'm _not_ telling him that! He's a grown man, he can figure that out himself! _Gothi!”_

Eret could only stare in delirious bewilderment as Gothi toddled to the table, wheezing a mischievous laugh as she set out glass jars of herbs and who knew what else. Gobber just got the fire going again, and filled both their kettles.

“Something for the pain.” he explained.

Thank _Odin._ It was still quiet outside, even quieter.

“The armada, what’s happening?” he rasped through a wave of nausea.

Gobber winced, jabbed the fire a few more times and limped to the door. He muttered to someone, there was a moment of silence, then surprised, _jubilant_ shouting. Oh, thank the _gods._ Relief hit hard, enough to dull the pain for a moment.

“They're leaving!” Gobber cried, “They're lea- ack!”

He yelped, stumbling out of the way as someone barged right past him. A helmet fell, a sword, another helm and Cassian was at his side, falling to his knees, _shaking._

_“Eret- G_ od, what happened? I- I'm so sorry, I-” 

He gently covered Cassian’s mouth, and tried to un-cross his vision.

“Cass, I'll be alright. Just need rest.” he said weakly.

Cassian sagged, letting a shuddering breath out against his palm. He removed his hand, brushing his fingers over Cassian’s cheek instead.

“What is _this?”_ Gobber squawked in disgust behind them.

He hefted the weird sword from where it was dropped, sneering in contempt.

“A _trophy.”_ Cassian managed a smug smile, “From that warlord, Ragno-something.”

Gobber snorted, _“Big_ lad?”

“Quite tall yes, but made of pudding _.”_

“Oh he was _definitely_ compensating for something.” the smith rolled his eyes, and set the sword out of the way against the wall.

Eret laughed, somehow, interrupted by the occasional ‘ow’.

“H- how- _ow.”_ he gasped, clutching his side, “What _happened?”_

Cassian’s smile failed, and a frown deepened.

 _“You_ were their bargaining chip, but they still wanted to negotiate. The pack put the other two in their place, but that ‘Ragol’ wanted to trade their surrender for a fight.”

_“Cass-”_

“He didn't lay a _finger_ on me and I kicked him in the head. Again.” he said quickly.

Eret could only manage a huff of disbelief, cradling the back of Cassian’s neck and pulling him close to press their brows together. They weren't alone but… he _needed_ this.

“We’ll ah- get you that sling, then you can have a little _privacy.”_ Gobber trailed to a whisper.

He could only groan in embarrassment, hiding his face in Cassian’s neck.

Tea was left to brew, the water in the extra kettle was starting to steam, and a makeshift sling was set aside as Cassian shut the door, heaving a shuddering sigh. He watched as Cass collected their helmets to hang up properly, and removed most of his own armor, stumbling back over as he kicked his boots off. Cassian freed him from the rest of his in turn, and _damn_ did it ever take a beating. The breastplate was cracked in places, scraped clean of scales in others and his helm was even _worse._ It hurt to see but… better the armor than him. Well, _more_ of him. The suit came off next, peeling like a second skin. He knew there would be bruises, but Cassian’s weak gasp still broke his heart. He kicked the suit away, and gave Cass a little push.

“Here, turn around. I can still get your laces.” he murmured.

It was hard to do one-handed, but he managed enough for Cassian to wiggle out on his own. It was just the two of them, as it should be, quiet and bare to each other.

“Let’s clean up, yeah?” he scratched at the back of Cassian’s neck.

He nodded, fetching the cloths and slowly, tenderly, cleaned him back and front, then got the sling fastened to support his arm. It _did_ help enormously, taking off the strain of keeping it still. It ached anyway, red-hot and throbbing, but there was still the tea for that. He gladly welcomed Cassian’s touch over his face, hips, legs… Just knowing Cass was _here_ was enough.

“Here, clothes. I'm sure they'll be back soon.” Cass passed over the trousers they had left out on the table for their return.

“If you _insist.”_ he rolled his eyes fondly.

But after that, he took his turn scrubbing Cassian clean, finding comfort in it's familiarity and seeing that he was- he paused.

“Are _you_ alright?” he asked cautiously.

Cassian nodded, “Just sore. I did punch that man _very_ hard.”

He winced at the memory, flexing his fingers and rolling his wrist.

 _“And_ you kicked him in the head?” he couldn't mask the tinge of pride in his voice.

“Twice.”

“With that little trick I taught you?”

Cassian kissed him, brief and sweet, “Of course.”

But his face fell, his brow creased, and he slowly tucked into Eret’s good arm, under his chin, breathing shaky and slow. They… had to talk about this, before it festered.

“Cass, I'll be okay.” he peppered kisses where he could, “You came just in time, like always.”

“I was so scared.” he croaked, _“Anything_ could’ve happened. My luck can't last forever, I should've been by your side from the start-”

 _“Cass.”_ he said firmly, “What’s done is done. We’re both alive, _everyone_ is, and we won. That's what matters now. We’ll keep the peace and go on living.”

Cassian nodded against his neck.

“And now… we can try for that trip home. And looking for Datura’s family. Once... my shoulder heals. And my ribs.” he continued, “Let's get some rest. And clothes.”

As much as he would _like_ to openly stare, that was a sight for his eyes only and he would like to keep it that way. There was still the tea… which Cassian thought of already, pulling the kettle off the fire to ladle out a mugfull. _Bless_ this man. Cass nudged him up the stairs, mounded the pillows for him, pressed the mug into his hands once he finally settled in and scooted over to make room. From there, he just watched over the rim of his mug as his- his _fiance,_ wiggled into his old trousers. The realization hit like- well, the entire deck of a ship. _His fiance._ He had to get that ring out… Cassian slipped beside him with a bone-weary sigh, curling against his side with one dark hand over his heart. Covering his brand, feeling his pulse… The tea was bitter and scalding but he choked it down anyway to free up his arm to pull Cassian closer. There would be much to do, _someone_ had to escort the trappers away and it wasn't going to be him…


	16. Chapter 16

He knew he couldn't sleep, no matter how bone-weary he was. This was only a temporary reprieve, more for Eret than himself. He would be needed, probaby to guard the trappers’ retreat and Hiccup would have a plan by the time he came knocking. Until then, Cassian honed in on Eret’s pulse, the powerful heart below his palm, that and only that. No what-ifs, no second-guessing, Eret was _alive._ A little hurt, but alive. That was what mattered, _all_ that mattered. He dozed, only lightly, with his head pillowed on Eret’s good shoulder, and he murmured a thousand prayers of gratitude in the spans of wakefulness, _Andalusi_ falling soft and familiar from his lips.

The knock came after maybe an hour, he wasn't sure, but he slogged down to answer. Hiccup was there as expected, sweaty and haggard and still in his firescale.

“We’re meeting in the Great Hall, go on and grab your boots.” he said wearily, edging inside and sneaking a peek at the loft, “...how is he?”

“Asleep. Nothing is broken, but he needs rest, and he isn't fit to fly.” he answered, voice rough.

Hiccup nodded mutely while he laced his boots and threw on his coat.

“Looks like he’ll be grounded for a while then. But, what about _you?”_

He paused, and answered honestly, “Terrified. Of what could have been, what almost _was…”_

“I’d be more concerned if you weren't.” Hiccup said.

“Does it ever go away? That feeling.” he asked after a long moment.

“No.” Hiccup shook his head, “But you can let in conquer you, or it can make you _stronger._ And you don't have to carry that alone.”

He looked, slow, pointed and _knowing,_ and left as Cassian rose to his feet to follow. Out over the cliffs, he could _just_ see the sails of the armada in full retreat with a flock of dragons circling ahead. Good, get them out of here and as far away as possible. The rest of Berk's dragons had returned to rest, flopping over rooftops and trees… they would never have to fight like this again.

In the hall, Hiccup took his place with the rest of the riders at the head table, sitting heavily and the room went silent.

“The warlords are leaving.” he said, “And we have to make _sure_ they leave. We will escort in shifts until they’re a day’s flight out, maybe a little less. From there, one team will ride with them, day and night, camping out in shifts until the fleet is beyond the borders of the archipelago.”

The crowd murmured, and Cassian had a feeling he wasn't going to like what came next.

“And I have to stress, the final team will be escorting in shifts, don't wear your dragons down. It could take more than a week to get out going straight east, as slow as they're sailing.” Hiccup drew a slow breath, “And I'm sorry to ask this of you, but Cassian- I need you on this last team. We can't let them forget what’s waiting if they go back on their end of the deal, and I do believe you've put the fear of _gods_ in them.”

Hiccup smiled, faint and almost _proud,_ and he nodded once.

“Oh, and can you go get everyone from the cove? That slipped my mind. Now, the first shift-”

He edged out of the Great Hall with his heart in his throat. He didn't _want_ to leave, not for so long, not when Eret was hurt _._ But… he forced himself to breathe. Eret was a grown man, and not that badly hurt. Plus, he wouldn't have to leave on this mission for another day or two. And if he got a few more trappers to soil themselves… it would be worth it. Nightshade found him on the path, bright-eyed and rested, chirping in a way she never had before.

“Now, let's go fetch your _darling_ suitor.” he patted her neck and vaulted aboard.

She thrilled and hurled herself into the sky, winging back to the cove. A memory returned as they shot over the fields and pastures and homes, Eret’s voice clear in his ears.

_‘Good land is rare, why do you think so many raiders went south?’_

If the only work the trappers knewwas war, their return was inevitable. They needed something _else._ There was timber up here, furs to be found in the woods, they had good ships to carry it all… if only they knew where to _go_ to take it. With that, they would have a way out and it would take them far from here. The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth, helping these people, but if they listened? That could cement their victory for _generations._ And that ‘hunter’... he had the skills to get them there with his maps and charts. Plus, that would get him out of their hair all in one fell swoop. He would have to run this by Hiccup…

Nightshade dove low over the cove, howling triumphantly and the dragons there were quick to answer and quicker to leave. Tyrian led the little flock, following his lady-love back towards Berk. The Nadder sang and tumbled freely over and around them, even Andarax and Crucible joined in. Datura shot by next, clutching Foxglove in her paws much to Nightshade’s distress. While the other dragons filtered away, his came all the way home. He barely got his feet on the ground before all five tackled him back into the grass, fervently licking his face and hands.

“Mercy! Have mercy!” he cried, until he dissolved into laughter.

Nightshade scolded them with a raspy bark after a time and they backed away enough for him to sit up. He gathered Foxglove close, holding her tight as he dared, then doted on each dragon in turn. Datura, Crucible, Andarax, Tyrian…

“I'm alright…” he said weakly, “I'm fine, and _you're_ safe now. No more fighting.”

He sniffled, pulling as many of them as close as he could. Over their thrumming and purring he caught a faint but familiar sound, a deep, concerned _croon._ Toothless peered over the two Wraiths, snuffling and nudging in between them until they made a little room. The Fury sighed, rolling his nose into the hand Cassian offered before looking to their loft window, crooning again. Oh, he wouldn't have heard…

“He will recover, he just needs time.” he scratched the dragon’s brow, “He’s probably still asleep, but I'm sure he’ll be about tomorrow, ignoring everyone telling him to rest…”

Toothless chuffed, nodding slowly before turning to go.

“Oh, one more thing! I have an idea to run by Hiccup, when he’s not busy.”

The Fury thrummed in agreement, and went on his way. Cassian lurched to his feet, shifting Foxglove in his arms. She had grown so much _,_ doubling her length and quadrupling her weight and given how big _Nightshade_ was, she had a long way to go. Datura was growing like a weed too, if her apatite was anything to go by. And now… they had a chance to find her family, once this escort was done and Eret healed. And _his_ home was in reach now. Not this year of course, but if they left next summer they could get to al-Mariyyah in autumn, or winter for Eret’s sake. If Datura and Foxglove were grown enough by then, maybe they could come. Nightshade and Crucible and Andarax too. They could trade along the way, or find places to stop on their return so their goods didn't spoil. The _wonders_ they could bring to Berk...

He sighed, slipped through the door and set Foxglove down. She protested of course, but he wanted to wash all the dragon drool off without getting it all over everything in their house. So he cleaned, shrugged out of his coat, filled another mug with tea and returned to the loft with Foxglove on his heels. Eret still slept, so he left the mug on the side table and sat on the edge of the bed, brushing the loose hair from Eret’s face. Bruises had ripened on his cheek, probably elsewhere on him too but… that was better than the alternative. It was going to hurt, but he could rest now. Foxglove clambered up, sniffing Eret all over, keening when she spotted the bruises.

“It's alright my dear, he’s just tired. Now it's our turn to take care of him _.”_

“I'm not _bedbound_ you know.”

Cassian and Foxglove yelped, almost falling off the bed while Eret laughed weakly.

 _“You-!”_ he huffed, but quickly deflated, “I know, but you deserve rest _._ You can let people dote on you for a change you know.”

Foxglove whined, ramming her head under Eret’s chin and he pet her as best he could.

“Well, if it’ll make _you_ feel better, I think I can endure.” he offered a tired smile.

Cassian sighed. It was better to tell him now.

“Hiccup wants me to escort the armada out, all the way to the border. There will be others and we leave in a few days, but… I will have to stay with the fleet until the deed is done. And I have a plan to run by Hiccup, to make sure they _stay_ away.” he frowned, _still_ not liking the thought, “They came to that life for a reason, they had nothing and if they _still_ have nothing, they'll just come back _._ But there are trees here, _massive_ trees that would be worth a king’s ransom down south and they have the ships to take it there. That hunter could guide them and… I know of a few ports along the sea. If they listen, if they have _sense,_ they could make an honest living.”

He growled in frustration, scrubbing at his face until his hands were pulled away.

“That… may just work. But it _is_ something for Hiccup to decide.” Eret sighed along with him.

“I just- they hurt you, they don't _deserve_ help! But if I don't, it will have been for nothing and we’ll be right back where we started.” he squeezed Eret’s hand, “If it works _,_ I don't care what I have to say. I’ll scare them into it if I must.”

Eret chuckled weakly, “It's a shame I wasn't around to see their faces when you brought that bastard down. It must’ve been glorious _.”_

“You’ll have to ask the others, I was _very_ intent on turning Rolo’s face inside-out. He might’ve looked better afterwards.” he snorted.

“Yeah, Drago didn’t pick them pretty. Aside from yours truly of course.”

Eret smiled a _little_ smugly, pulling their joined hands closer to kiss his knuckles, then fingers, where he paused.

“Here, let me up-”

“Absolutely _not.”_ he said firmly, “Unless it is an emergency you are resting today.”

Eret rolled his eyes, _“_ Fine _,_ I just need something out of my trunk. A little bag, it should be towards the back.”

This man… He rolled off the bed to fetch this trinket. The bag was right where it should be, and heavy for it's size, jingling faintly. He returned to Eret’s side and handed it over, staring as the bag was upended over the quilts. A pendant and chain spilled out, one ring, then three more, copper and silver and even gold. But Eret took only one, pushed everything else aside, and drew a deep breath.

“Can't be quite as romantic with one hand but… we can make it official. I don't know if everyone uses rings, but _we_ do and-”

Cassian’s breath hitched as a ring was pressed into his palm, heavy, silver, a familiar Stormcutter-owl shape. Of _course_ he would.

“And you caught me without a token in return, _again.”_ he pouted, batting at Eret’s arm.

“Well, you've got a day or two, I'm sure you can come up with something.”

He sniffled and kissed Eret soundly, finally slipping the ring on his finger- only for it to stop at his knuckle. He tried every finger on his left hand until it finally fit on his right, solid and warm. Looks like he would need to talk to Gobber after all…

“You drive a hard bargain son-of-Eret.” he quipped, though his voice was wet.

“That’s a family heirloom, I expect only the _best_ in return.” Eret chuckled.

“I think you'll have to settle for Gobber, unless you want to wait for me to drag _Affan_ up here. Can't promise he’ll be any better though.” he tucked in against Eret’s side and Foxglove settled between them, thrumming like thunder.

Eret was asleep again by dinner and hunger got Cassian out of bed. He still had to tell Hiccup his plan after all, and bring back something for Eret to eat. Foxglove was content to stay and stand guard, and the rest of his flock had piled into the barn to sleep. Good, good… The Hall was already almost full when he got there, and full of celebration for their victory. He… didn't really have the heart to join them, so took his meal to the rider’s table. Hiccup, Astrid, and Valka were the only ones there, but that was just as well. He sat heavily, and Hiccup just _looked._

“I've been thinking…” he started, idly stirring his soup.

“A good thing, usually.” Astrid chuckled.

“The warlords, their men… if they had nothing and were _driven_ to that life, they can only come back. Maybe not next month, next year, but someday. They need something to _replace_ that-” he would have to explain, naturally, “Down south, in Europa, forests are thin and good timber is expensive if you want to build anything worth a damn. But there is so much up here, even on islands no one could ever live on, and they could easily haul enough to make the trip worth their while. They just need someone to open their eyes to the possibility. We dump that hunter and his maps on them, I show them where all the best ports are and maybe… they can leave this all behind.”

Hiccup nodded once, slowly, while Astrid and Valka shared a look.

“What makes you think they would listen?” Valka asked, lip faintly curling.

“I am apparently _quite_ scary.” Cassian allowed himself a small smirk, “And, if you could choose between hunting dragons and hunting trees _,_ I would certainly choose trees. Plus, the promise of warm weather, food and luxuries beyond their wildest dreams…”

“That _would_ get the hunter out of our hair.” Astrid agreed, if reluctantly.

“I don't think it would take more than the promise of being let out of his _lovely_ accommodations.” Valka snorted.

“As much as he brags _,_ his maps are incredible. I've even made a few copies myself. I don't think he’ll turn down the chance to be admired and see the world.” Hiccup finally said, “But we should wait for the final escort to ship him out, just in case.”

“And in that time…” Cassian sighed, “I'll make sure Al-Andalus is _on_ those maps. My home was a port, and there were many others like it. It won't be any help to tell them to go ‘somewhere else’ with no names or locations. Personal assurances, insider information… that could be what seals the deal.”

Hiccup nodded once more, “I'll handle him tonight, you can try that tomorrow. Everyone’s earned their rest today, there’s plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

“That _does_ include you too chief.” he said pointedly.

Astrid and Valka shared his look, pinning Hiccup on the spot, and he reluctantly agreed.

Eret was awake by the time he returned with dinner, and he was _ravenous._ So he ate while Cassian strummed away on his lute, more for the sake of keeping his hands busy. Nerves still left him shaking and after one too many sour notes, Eret stopped him with a touch.

“Come on, settle in. The day’s done. We can worry about life tomorrow.” he said, so sweetly.

Cassian relented, and fell asleep within moments.

***

They both slept hard, and he felt a little less like death when he woke. But only a little. His whole left side _burned_ as he struggled out from under the sprawl of Cassian’s limbs, but things needed doing. The sling made life that much more difficult, even if it saved him from supporting his arm constantly. He had to do everything one-handed, at least until Cassian slogged downstairs to help clean, hang their armor up, wash themselves a little better…

He should've expected the heartbroken gasp when his tunic came off.

Everything from shoulder to hip was mottled black and blue and he felt every inch of it. But he'd take bruises over worse any day.

“It'll clear up soon enough.” he insisted.

“Heat helps…” Cassian muttered, fiddling with his own shirt.

“Maybe later, duty calls.” he chuckled.

They shouldn't be getting in the habit of slinking off to the springs, not that he had the condition for their usual activities there. No sooner were they ready to face the day, when a knock came at the door. Foxglove scratched at the wood until he nudged her aside to open up for Astrid, who leapt to the side when the hatchling bolted out. Must be going to the barn then.

“That hunter’s at the Thorston’s place, he's willing to talk but…” she leaned closer and said more quietly, “Hiccup wants you there too for… _moral support.”_

“Don't let Cass kill ‘im, got it.” he rolled his eyes.

“I can hear you.” Cassian snarked from the loft.

He almost slipped halfway down the stairs with his re-bound sheaf of notes, huffing as he straightened his coat. Eret took his hand without even thinking, and from there they followed. The Thorston home was _not_ on fire for a change, though with Foxglove and Nightshade tagging along… that might not last. At least Nightshade was too big to get inside. The house was well-shaded this time of day so the interior was dim save for the hearth and a few lamps, all around the main table where the hunter had set up to work. A fresh, broad skin of parchment spread over the table, pinned down by tools and sheafs of old papers, inkwells and pens. Ruffnut and Tuffnut watched from the corners of the room, utterly bored while the thin man fussed and muttered to himself. Damn, that bruise was hardly looking any better. Half his face was a sallow green where it wasn't still ruddy-purple. The door slammed and he jolted, freezing like a deer when he spotted Cassian, then Foxglove. 

Oh, this was going to be _fun._

“What happened to _your_ face?” the old man sneered, suddenly looking his way,“Certainly hope it wasn’t him _.”_

“I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” he said very softly, stalking closer, “Because I'm supposed to be keeping ‘him _’_ from killing you. I made no such promises myself _.”_

The hunter swallowed hard, eyes darting around the room. They both sat opposite him, and Cassian dropped his notes on the table. Slowly, the hunter pulled the folio closer, flicked it open, and all apprehension fled him. Page after page he turned, brows rising to his hairline.

“Where did you find all this?” he asked, almost _giddily._

“South.” Cassian answered, “Assuming Hiccup has explained, your skills could lead an armada of _traders_ there, and I have information to fill in the blanks. Ports, trade routes, and a little of the coast of Europa, the Imperial Sea, the Pillars of Heracles…”

On and on he went, doodling coastlines in the margins of his own pages while the hunter watched like a hawk, drawing it all in. They might just be getting somewhere… Even if he didn't like this man’s shifty little eyes, or his twitchy spider-hands.

“How do you know all this?” the hunter finally asked.

Cassian snorted, “Where do you think I _came_ from? Certainly not here _._ I was born in one of these port cities, I was raised with this. And when you're the youngest son of four _,_ you learn to listen when everyone’s busy ignoring you. You hear everything, because no one pays you any mind. The trade disputes, bad deals, brigands and pirates, and more that isn't fit to mention in present company.”

Cass snickered, and the hunter looked uncertainly to him. He could only shrug.

“I've only been as far as the Shetlands, he knows the south better than anyone here.”

“Well, your recollections are rudimentary. Enough to be helpful at the very least, but the rest needs a proper survey… It should be possible to get that far in fair time, but certainly not in _winter._ No, not with the storms and a burdened ship.” the hunter hummed and pursed his lips, tapping the map with his pen.

“I'll have to agree with that.” he nodded once.

“The Pillars are narrow, and treacherous even in fair weather. It is not for the faint of heart.” Cassian agreed.

“But, timber and fur, that can be prepared through the winter in time to leave for spring. There are ways _.”_ the hunter set his pen down, “I must thank-”

“Don't misunderstand me.” Cassian snapped, “I do not offer this out of _kindness._ I want to protect my home, and that means keeping the likes of you away, by whatever means necessary. If ‘helping’ does that, then so be it. Being the bigger man is a bonus, not a goal _.”_

The hunter nodded slowly, that _prey_ look returning.

 _“Good,_ we have an understanding. You'll be riding in to join the armada with me, in a day or two. I'll smooth your arrival over, as I have an understanding with Ragnar as well. Have at your work. Foxglove, come-”

Cassian stood, but the Sickle-Scale was no longer at his feet. Or anywhere else. They peered under the table, into the corners, behind the furniture, when the hunter shrieked and toppled over backwards, bench and all. He shot over and found Foxglove parked on the hunter’s chest, tail wagging as she stared him down and he stared back in mute, frozen terror.

“Aw, she likes you!” Ruffnut cooed.

“Get it off _getitoff-”_ the man squeaked.

Foxglove licked straight up the center of his face, slow, deliberate, and _slobbery,_ then hopped off to sit contentedly at Cassian’s feet. The hunter’s eyes slowly opened, wide with horror and disgust and Tuffnut howled with laughter, and he had to chuckle a bit too, as much as his ribs would allow. 

“ _That’s_ my girl. Come, it's time for breakfast.” Cassian opened the door to lead her out.

But he lingered, enough to look back at the hunter slowly staggering up one long limb at a time. This… might just work, but he wouldn't be there to keep Cass on an even keel against the warlords. He just had to hope that everything would work in their favor. But he trusted Cass, if anyone could do this… it was him. Maybe Hiccup too, but that was the bias talking.

Recovery had begun in earnest, if the dragons hauling cage after cage from the sea were anything to go by. They dropped them on the fringes of the village, where Grump and the Goregutter gleefully tore them to pieces. They wouldn't want for iron for decades at this rate. The ships were back where they belonged, safe and sound, their defenses were relaxed… and dragons flew free _._ But with the warlords gone, they would have to lead many, _many_ of them away from Berk. They just couldn't sustain them all. But they would be free to spread back to all their old haunts, all over the archipelago now that they didn't have to worry about trappers.

There wasn't as much to do as they feared so they _did_ manage to sneak out to the springs, though Cassian had to do the flying. The heat and steam drove the ache from his flesh and bones, and at some point Datura and the little Prickleboggle joined them. How and when he couldn't be sure, but the healing mist only helped further. Cassian’s hands kneaded the stress and tension away, at least where he didn't look like a ripening berry. There he was peppered with kisses, everywhere Cass could reach. But, that's where the touches had to end. As much as he _liked_ their time here, it could only be a quick trip, they would surely be missed. Reluctantly, they withdrew and headed home.

The reports from the returning escort teams were encouraging. The armada was on course and there was no funny business about. But they were making good time, better than expected. In two days the final team would have to ride, which meant they had to get the hunter kitted up and ready to fly along. Hiccup found the friendliest Gronckle on Berk for the job and an old saddle that would fit just fine, then passed the both of them on to Fishlegs who only reluctantly agreed to help. Probably on account of the Gronckle. All the man had to do was _sit still,_ and he somehow still managed to fall off half a dozen times before it even flapped it's wings once. But he, Cassian, and half of Berk took great amusement watching from the sidelines.

“We’re gonna have to _belt_ him to that saddle.” he shook his head in disbelief.

“How did he even ride Nightshade all the way here? _I_ had trouble and I'm half his size!” Cassian muttered.

“I can hear you!” the man squawked indignantly.

“Don't care!” Cassian shot back, “I still can't believe there are no horses up here, no wonder it takes so long to figure out.”

“You _still_ won't tell me what a ‘horse’ is, will you?” he pouted.

“No. It'll be funnier when you finally see one for yourself.” Cass snickered.

“Heh, bickering like an old married couple already?” Gobber chortled as he strolled by.

“We’re not married _.”_ Cassian huffed, then said a little more quietly, “Just… well.”

Gobber froze mid-step, eyes bulging as Cassian gave his right hand a little wave.

 _“Finally!_ Come on you, to the forge! I've already started-”

Before either could protest, Gobber linked an arm through Cassian’s and hauled him away, cackling gleefully. What had he been planning? 

_And for how long???_

***

True to his word, Gobber _was_ nearly finished with another mold, but a curious one. It was similar to the medallion, but smaller and more of an oval with space for a band to be cast right in. But the band wasn't quite finished, in the center the loop wasn't sealed and the free ends flared wide, tapering very thin.

“If I can borrow that ring a moment I'll get this sized right. So, when we cast the rest we’ll put this in the mold and it'll all fuses together. Get it quenched, put it through the gravel drum to strengthen the silver, then a good polish. It'll be done by dinner!” Gobber almost _shook_ with eager energy.

Cassian pulled the ring off and handed it over, stunned silent. All this, done _already?_ All this work, the care, without any prompting. Why? It was supposed to be just the two of them, with no one else really knowing-

“Ease up lad, it's too soon for your bones to be creaking.” Gobber nudged him as he passed.

 _“Why?”_ he asked weakly, after a long beat.

Gobber stared.

“Whaddya _mean_ ‘why’? The two of you are as smitten as any lovebirds have ever been, it was only a matter of time-”

“No, why us _,_ why _me?”_ he insisted, “What makes us so special?”

Gobber wilted, looking almost hurt _._

“You really haven't figured it out lad?”

Figured out what _?_ Gobber was just like everyone else-

But he had no wife, no children, not that _he_ knew. Why- why else would-

He stared, dumbfounded.

“You'll, eh… have to forgive a little excitement about all those ‘life milestones’. Missed a few of ‘em myself.” the smith shrugged, scratching his neck.

“Gobber, I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“It's alright lad, you _have_ had your head in the clouds.” Gobber clapped a hand on his shoulder, giving him a little shake, “Now let's get this done. I've got some scrap ready.”

Terrors made quick work of the crucible, melting silver into liquid light and pre-heating the mold, while he held the band in place so Gobber could pour. Once the whole piece was barely brick-red, Gobber prised it from the mold and quenched the finished ring in a bucket, where it fizzled weakly. The gravel drum was next, and he was left to spin that by hand while Gobber tidied, and he could think. Sure Gobber was happy, _they_ were happy, but… it was still just for them. Marriage was for families after all, or alliances or money or business. It wasn't for lovers like them. But it wasn't all bad, they wouldn't have to worry about all the pageantry-

“That should about do it, switch ‘er over! Oh wait, the drive shaft…”

Gobber shuffled over, fiddled with something behind the bench and the tilted pans started to spin all on their own after a heavy wooden _clunk_. 

“Start with this one, and we’ll shift it down to finer sand for a mirror polish. You'll be able to see it from the _moon!_ Still have to work on a few things for Hiccup’s wedding…”

He must've winced, flinched, twitched the wrong way, because Gobber stared.

“Eh… not one for weddings?” he asked warily.

“I was run ragged for two of them, my older brothers’. It was a mess, all for showing off.” Cassian sighed, dropping heavily onto a bench, “All marriages _chosen_ for them, you could see they were miserable. I left before the same could happen to me.”

Gobber sat beside him, groaning softly as he stretched out his bad leg.

“Well, it's not like that here, not anymore. Once _?_ Sure, but that's the stuff of ballads. Course, we do have to make sure nobody is… _too_ closely related, that sort of thing.” he winced, “But... it's really your choice. The chief is gonna have a big fancy wedding of course, he’s the _chief!_ It's practically in the job description! Everyone else just does as they like.”

He sensed a _point_ buried between the lines, and Gobber’s furtive glance confirmed it.

“I _may_ have pondered aloud, in the company of a future chieftess, about _other_ weddings in the future…” Gobber continued, “We’re in agreement that it would be in poor form to throw something before theirs _,_ but the schedule does open up after that. We’re a little behind on the finery, so theirs might be in winter, we’ll see. But, the two of you have the preemptive blessing of the chiefly team.”

Cassian could only stare in shock. Hiccup and Astrid would do this, _allow_ it, for them?

“But, we-”

Gobber held up a hand, stopping him short.

“No reason not to lad. Who could it hurt? So long as you don't _show up_ the royal couple, no ones gonna look twice and you can keep it as quiet as you like.”

“Why?” he croaked.

“Wh- lad, have you forgotten what you've done here? The _both_ of you!” Gobber chuckled, “Astrid and the rest of the kids probably wouldn't have made it out of Drago’s armada without Eret, _you_ took an arrow for Hiccup! What more reason do they need?”

He nodded slowly, staring at the floor. It- by their laws it would be _real._ It was only a difference in technicality, but that still, God it meant the _world._ Try as he might, he couldn't hold back a sniffle, the pricking in his eyes…

“Wh- Cassian, what’s wrong?”

“I-” his breath hitched hard, “I never dreamed I-”

His throat closed tight, and Gobber patted his back.

“Aye, me too lad. Me too…”


	17. Chapter 17

He did not want to go, but go he must. Eret helped pack a change of clothes, food, a waterskin, their bedroll, and after a second thought, his lute. This was going to be a _very_ boring trip, he was sure of it. The pack fit neatly behind Nightshade’s back plate, swathed in an oilskin in case of bad weather, and he finally dressed for the flight. In the time they had, they'd modified his armor a little, lengthening the straps of the gauntlets and boots so he could wear it over normal clothes instead of the undersuit. Having the protection _and_ his wings… it calmed his nerves, just a little. Plus, the helm was a clear reminder of who he was, and that was critical to his plan. The hunter- _Grimmel_ or whatever, could at least keep his ass on his Gronckle and was likewise ready to leave, after they had retrieved the rest of his belongings. This last escort team numbered 30 riders and another 20 dragons, including the twins and Snotlout in their ranks. It was going to be a long, long trip, and he could already feel the headache forming.

Eret helped with the breastplate as much as he was able, settling all the plates over his coat. With summer waning, he need the warmth on a flight this long. But he lingered on fastening the last strap on his gauntlet, as if that was all that kept him here, _home._

“We can only hope the fleet will be swift, it could be another week _._ At least our return will only be two days…” he sighed, deep and bitter.

“You’ll be fine… Just gotta fly around and make sure no one does anything stupid.” Eret took his hand, and _their_ rings clicked softly.

Cassian frowned, brows knitting, “I- I'm going to leave the ring. I _can't_ lose it.”

“Yeah… might be for the best.” Eret agreed, “I'll just put it in your chest. It’ll be waiting for you, and- so will I.”

“The days can't pass fast enough.” he said, fighting the waver in his voice.

With one last embrace and a kiss that left him weak _,_ he slid his helm on. Let's get this done.

After the _sixth_ bathroom break in as many hours, the rest of the flock stopped landing with Grimmel and his Gronckle. They forged on ahead, only slowing a little to let them catch back up. It set annoyance simmering under Cassian’s skin, he was only _delaying_ them-

“My friend, how much further?” Grimmel shouted from below.

“We are not _friends._ And we are more than half way. Could be further without all your stops.” he growled.

“I'm not a _young_ man you know! Bits and pieces wear down-”

 _"_ Don't need to know that!” Snotlout snapped.

Thankfully, Grimmel shut up and they just… kept flying.

The fleet was right where it should be. The last team was glad to hand the reins over and start home, though they would not get there before the sun set. The ships were still singed and scorched from their fire, and Cassian took no small pleasure in that. But there was work to be done while the sun was still up, and he didn't want to deal with Grimmel any more than necessary.

“You, follow.” he barked towards the Gronckle, “Snotlout, Gustav, with me.”

Nightshade rumbled uncertainly, but dove towards the flagship with his assurances, followed by the Nightmares and Gronckle. Panic rose from below and around, but they landed lightly on the center of the deck just below the raised helm platform. The sailors fidgeted, shifting nervously but… they were unarmed. The man at the wheel sprinted into the hall of the sprawling captain’s lodge, likely after one of the warlords. So, he took the chance to dismount and remove his helm, hanging it off the saddle as he shook his hair out. It was getting long…

 _“What?!_ We’re leaving, _everything_ they asked, what is the prob-” a familiar voice thundered closer.

Ragnar the Rock froze one step out of the hallway, going pale as he forced a smile.

“I am here to _speak.”_ Cassian said pointedly, then looked to Grimmel, “You, come here.”

“I think my legs are-” he started to protest, setting one foot down-

And immediately collapsed on the deck like a newborn fawn.

Cassian exhaled slowly through his nose, feeling something twitch under his eye.

“Speak about _what_ exactly?” Ragnar asked hesitantly.

“Your future. We both know if left to your own devices you'll be back trapping some day or another. That's why I am offering an _alternative.”_ he crossed his arms, “Because I don't want to see you or yours in these lands ever again.”

Ragnar and the rest of his present crew looked to each other, wary and uncertain.

“And, what might this alternative _be?”_ his forced smile returned.

“Far to the south there is _trade,_ and the lumber here could make you and your crew rich men. Good timber is rare there, and in the right market, with the amount this ship alone could hold? I can't even begin to guess what a haul like that was worth. Timber, furs, fish, there is a living to be made, but only if you know where to go. Which is where _he_ comes in.” he jerked a thumb at Grimmel, “Turns out your ‘Night Fury hunter’ is quite the mapmaker, and he can take you to a dozen ports in Europa. Ones I have known, some I know of _,_ and there are many, many more than that. Though, some places may be too hot for you to weather safely in summer, and that is no slight _._ The sun can kill all on it's own, same as the cold. But I have left notes of such things.”

He watched expectantly as Ragnar thought, long and hard, pacing the upper deck.

“What proof do you have, of _any_ of this?” he finally asked.

He expected such a question and pulled a cord from around his neck, removing a glass flower pendant from under his coat and gave it a toss up to the warlord. Ragnar caught it, and stared with growing curiosity and fascination. It was some of his best work, he'd even aged it on the top of Berk’s spire until the glass turned a faint lilac in the sun.

“What is-”

“You are not the only ones far from home. That is an art handed down through generations of my family, all the way back to the empire of Rome and beyond, to the shadows of time. I was born in these lands and raised around trade, I _know_ this can be done. You only need the will to change.” a smirk tugged at his lips, “You will see beauty beyond imagining. Seas bluer than the sky, fish like gems, spices and fruits you couldn't even _dream_ of…”

Interest sparked in their eyes. The bait was set, now he just had to make sure they bit the hook. He stepped over the pile that was Grimmel to retrieve their joint creation, a tentative map of the archipelago _and_ Eruopa.

 _“This_ is the sum of everything we know. It is not yet complete, but it can get you to the Imperial Sea. You may yet make names for yourselves.”

He mounted the stairs to the helm and handed the map over. Ragnar hesitated, just a fraction, before gingerly taking the roll of parchment and unfurling it. He stared as his crew gathered around and behind him, eyes roving-

“But… where are we _?”_ one man asked.

Cassian pulled on a corner, unrolling it further to open the top right of the map.

“Right about _here.”_ he tapped a bit of nondescript open sea, north of the Shetlands “And where you will want to go is all around here _.”_

He shifted to trace the southern coast of the Sea, and parts of Al-Andalus.

“And _here_ is Al-Mariyyah, where you will find everything I have promised and more, for that was my home and I know her well.” he looked up from under raised brows.

Something creased in Ragnar’s eyes, disbelief, suspicion, _hope,_ and he rolled up the map. 

“We will… consider.” he said slowly, and retreated to the cabins.

This was just the start, and there was still a week to convince them if he must. He returned to the Gronckle to untie Grimmel’s pack and trunks, leaving it all on the deck where the man still tried to coax blood back into his legs.

“Go on, back to the flock with you.” he shooed the dragon away.

It hovered, but gave Grimmel a long, _wet_ lick up the side of his head before it went on it's way. Snotlout, Gustav, and a good portion of the crew snickered as Grimmel shrieked in disgust, swiping at his mouth.

“There, solid ground and an employer. Don't boast too much.” Cassian left him there.

He slipped his helmet back on, climbed into the saddle, and all three dragons took flight. 

The sun was nearly set now, and they had flown far. The flock perched where they could, on masts and rails and the tops of cabins to rest for the night. They roosted in pairs to keep watch in shifts, but… there was no real reason to exhaust themselves flying the whole time, day and night. And tired as he may be, Cassian was not ready to sleep just yet. So he took out his lute to play softly, quietly along with the breeze in the rigging and the creak of hull and mast, fingers plucking out _their_ song all on their own. Of course… but he didn't have the spark to sing. No, the likes of this armada weren't worthy of it. But when he spared a glance around, the men below seemed to stop, stare, listen, not that he cared. This wasn't for them _._ Nightshade sighed, butting against his shoulder gently enough to not spoil his strumming. 

“We’ll be home soon enough, dear lady. We must be patient, keep our heads…”

The end of summer proved to be kind, they made good time both day and night and for most of those days they saw neither hide nor hair of Grimmel and the warlords. But the border was drawing close, and he needed to know their answer, as much for Hiccup's sake as his own sanity. He managed to get the Gronckle to play along, shockingly enough, and do a little spying. Nightshade was just too big and fast to let him peer into any windows. They hovered cabin to cabin, back and forth around the back of the flagship until, just _barely_ between the wood slats, he spotted a familiar flattened helmet and armor. The shutters looked to opened inwards and the windows were set deep, so there was plenty of room to sit there and wait for Ragnar to return. He stepped down from the Gronckle’s back and waved it off to join the rest, go hunt or something. The ship was ornate, with plenty of handholds for him to climb up and away if there was any danger, and it was overcast enough to hide his shadow. So, he settled in the window-well, eyes slipping shut so he could _listen._ There were voices in the distance, deep in the bowels of the ship, faint and indistinct, footsteps and creaking boards…

He almost dozed off when a door opened inside that very room and heavy footsteps entered, then approached the window. He braced himself in the frame as the shutters rattled, flung open-

He clapped a hand over Ragnar’s mouth to muffle the scream that followed. The man’s eyes bulged with terror until he stumbled away, but Cassian stayed where he was. 

_“You-!”_ Ragnar seethed, “You are a _sneaky_ man!”

He smirked. “I'll take that as a compliment _.”_

Ragnar huffed and stomped over to the door to lock it.

“I only want to know if you've made your choice. I’d like to bring good tidings home, as would _you_ I imagine.” he casually examined his nails.

“The _others_ are mulling.” Ragnar grumbled, “They are not keen on something that lacks blood and glory. But they have always been short-sighted and blinded by ego, same as Bludvist.”

Cassian prickled. He _knew_ that name, the one who’s mark towered on the sails, on _Eret._

“If they are like _him,_ my confidence is not high.” he said tersely.

“Oh you ah… you've heard of him then?” Ragnar winced.

“I've heard and _seen_ all I need of that monster. The world is better off without him.”

“You can't have been there for the attack of Berk-”

“I have seen _all I need to see.”_ he snarled, “That sigil on your sail is _branded_ on my future husband. Only the better nature of Berk has spared _you_ the same fate.”

Ragnar blanched, “You, _what-”_

“You are _extremely_ lucky to be alive. If Eret had been hurt any worse, we wouldn't even be talking like this. But he will recover, and I will not break another family.” he forced himself to breathe slow, “Go to them, and if you do this, take them with you. The sea may be dangerous, but better to weather it together than leave them wondering where you are for years.”

He left before he could say something _spectacularly_ stupid, scaling the cabins until the Gronckle swung by again.

By the sixth day, just after dawn, they crossed the Standing Dragons, the easternmost point of the archipelago. There the armada was set loose and the flock turned back home _,_ but not before Cassian swooped over the deck where all three warlords stood, pulling Nightshade to slow and hover before them. The woman looked sour, the other man was impassive, and Ragnar hung behind them, eyes downcast.

“I certainly hope you've considered my alternative. Do _not_ make me regret my generosity.” he shouted over the wind, “You know what awaits you if you return.”

Nightshade shrieked and the other two warlords flinched, but Ragnar slowly met his eyes and nodded once. _Good._ Together they wheeled and sprinted after the rest of the riders. It would take all today and at least tomorrow to get home, they couldn't linger. There was the harvest to prepare for, and shoring up for winter… they may just be able to squeeze in that hunt for Datura’s mysterious home. Just a little longer.

Strong winds from the south threw them a little off course, nothing worth stressing over itself but they were crossing unfamiliar territory, trusting their dragons’ innate sense for home. It was quiet here, empty, what islands there were stayed low and rocky. But something nagged at the back of Cassian’s mind, the faintest sense of _unease_ that he couldn't place. Nightshade seemed to feel it too, rumbling low.

“Easy, easy my dear…” he murmured, patting her neck.

“What is it?” Gustav shouted from above.

“Just a feeling. Stay on your guard.” he scanned the sky and sea once more.

There was a particular tall island ahead, not so very big but it's high, craggy cliffs could hide anything. He urged the flock higher, well out of range of any grounded weapons, but that _feeling_ lingered and it was almost… familiar. Like the Call, but darker, more uncertain. He strayed to the edge of the group as they passed that strange island, peering into the crevices and hidden coves. It was more than just cliffs, a forest of sea stacks filled the ocean as they moved west, and then there were _voices_ on the wind, over the waves.

“Snotlout, Gustav, Ruff and Tuff, to me!” he barked. 

They moved in force, staying high to skim the tops of the stacks until-

He almost slipped when Nightshade banked hard, thrilling in shock. There was a boat, _achingly_ familiar but still distinct from Eret’s; winged sails, an arched prow, and bold patterns, just-so-slightly different. The figures on it shouted and a ballista twanged, hurling a net well below them. He didn't have to say a word. Nightshade, Fanghook and Hookfang were already powering higher to dive down, taking out their weapons with practiced ease. The feeling was overpowering now, he _had_ to know. Nightshade landed hard in the center of the deck, scattering the crew with her whipping tail and claws. The Nightmares and Zippleback parked on the rails behind them, driving the men further back towards the cabin.

“Who is your captain?” he roared over the shouting.

The dragons snarled and one trapper ran through a door in the stern, where more angry voices rose. He couldn't breathe as a tall figure lurched through the crowd, coughing weakly into a fist. Nightshade swayed under him, rumbling uncertainly, but he patted her and pushed his face plate back. _God_ there was no doubt. He had the same face, strong jaw, mostly-black hair, even his tattoos were the same, though the years visibly weighed on him.

“You are Eret.” he said, almost more to himself, _“Father_ of Eret.”

“How does Cass know his name?” Gustav failed to whisper.

 _“Gustav.”_ Snotlout and the twins hissed at once.

Cassian dropped to the deck, watching cautiously as the stranger stalked forward.

“How _do_ you know that name?” the man rasped, wet and sickly _._

“Take a guess.” he raised his right hand, and the medallion glinted, “Is there _not_ another Eret?”

The crowd muttered but the man stared, shoulders slumping as disbelief hit him hard.

“You know my son?” he staggered another step closer, “Where? Where is he?!”

This close, a smell caught in the wind, enough to set him recoiling in disgust. _Infection._ The edge of a bandage dangled out from under Eret sr’s sleeve, and Cassian grabbed the man's wrist to pull the tunic back. His whole forearm was swathed in bandages stained with blood and worse and it was _putrid,_ but it showed just as well in his face, flushed and sweaty with fever, eyes unfocused and bloodshot-

He was _dying._ Or, he would die out here if they left him.

“Ey, let go-” he protested, tugging away.

“Pack your bags, you're coming with us.” Cassian snapped.

“What-”

“Do you want to see your son or not?”

Eret sr. scurried off and he vaulted back onto Nightshade, rounding into the confused stares of the other riders and their equally baffled dragons.

“Cassian what are you doing _?”_ Snotlout hissed.

“That man is _dying_ Snotlout.” he muttered, “If Eret has peace to make, he deserves the chance. And from what he's told me, he would have words _._ He’ll ride with you, we need to be quick. He may not have much time left.”

Eret sr was back soon enough with only a small satchel, and Hookfang was kind enough to get on the deck proper to let him aboard.

“The days of dragon trapping are over!" he shouted to the crew, “There are no more warlords and no more _wars._ Come to Berk for your captain in peace or leave.”

And with that, they took flight.

Berk was still _hours_ away, but they should be there by nightfall. He didn't know how Eret sr. had the strength or wits to hold on, but he managed even better than Grimmel did. Maybe it ran in the blood, if Astrid’s stories were to be believed.

 _“Psst,_ Cass.” Tuffnut ducked closer, “You really think this is a good idea?”

“I don't know.” he admitted, “But that's for Eret to decide.”

“Okay, but the tension is _palpable_ and Senior back there looks fit to drop. Better be tactful with this Gronckle egg.” Tuff frowned, just a little, and banked away.

Eret had been... brief on his own history, even he could sense there was more under the surface. But what exactly, he couldn't be sure. They would drop Eret sr at the healer right away with minimal fanfare, then he would tell Eret himself. As gently as possible. This would have to be handled… delicately. For everyone's sake.

***

It was near sundown on the eighth day and Eret was _trying_ not to let his nerves show, but no one bought it for a second. They were trying to prepare for the wildest parts of the flock to move on, well over half the dragons on Berk. All they needed was good news from the escort team. Any day now, they should be back. He had to remember that. Cass was perfectly capable, and had the likes of Snotlout and Tuffnut to back him up. They'd be fine. With a steeling breath, he rubbed his thumb over the Nadder ring, taking some comfort from it's weight and shape. And it also kept his one hand busy enough to not mess with his aching ribs, or shoulder...

“You haven't been sleeping at all, have you?” Astrid frowned.

He jolted, almost pitching backwards off the bench.

“‘M fine.” he mumbled.

Astrid and Hiccup both sighed, sharing a look across the table. They'd all stayed after dinner to go over this relocation plan, but he just couldn't focus.

“They'll be okay, it's just a matter of time. _You've_ done long-haul flights-”

A great cheer rose outside to cut Hiccup off, and Eret _bolted._ The returning dragons and riders sailed by, scattering homeward, but he only cared about _one._ He scanned the skies until a familiar roar dropped in from above and Nightshade sprinted to him in her weird ambling gallop. Cassian toppled off her back without a care, threw his helmet aside, and in a rush they pulled each other close, held tight, _laughed,_ if a little shakily. Even Shade rubbed her cheek against his good arm, rumbling like thunder. When they could finally pull apart, the smile died on his lips. Cassian looked so _tired,_ but… there was something else. His heart sank.

“What happened?” he asked, hand trembling where it curled behind Cassian’s neck.

“The warlords are fine.” he said quickly, “Ragnar at the very least is on board. But- we found something. Something _else_ and... you'll need to see for yourself. Just, please-”

“Cassian! What happened?” Hiccup interrupted.

Eret quelled a flash of frustration, and Cass forced himself to look over.

“They're gone, and caused no trouble. One’s agreed to our plan, maybe the rest have too but just won't admit it. But, we found another trapper ship.”

His blood ran cold. Who else could possibly be out there-

“We took out their weapons.” Cassian continued, and drew a shaky breath, “Eret, it was your _father.”_

His arm dropped to his side and he stumbled a step back. No, no it couldn't be.

“That- no, it _can't.”_ he stammered.

“There's a wound, it's infected. _Badly._ He may not-”

 _“Where.”_ he lunged, grabbing Cassian’s arm, _too_ hard he was pulling away-

“Gothi’s hut! Eret, stop that-” he yanked again.

Eret dropped him like he'd been burned and sprinted down the hill, cutting between houses and he _couldn't breathe._ That- it _couldn't_ be, how could Cassian know? Why would that bastard even be around Berk, and still hunting dragons? Hookfang lingered on the path, voices filled the hut, Gobber was coming around the corner-

The smith caught him across the chest, stopping him dead before the doorway, eyes uncharacteristically stony and cold.

 _“You_ stop, right now.” he said, cool and slow, “You are not going inside until you've calmed down _._ Sit over there, let them work, and just _breathe_ for a minute.”

Gobber pointed to a bench across the way, shoved him over, and it was like a blast of ice to the head. He stumbled, collapsed into the seat and covered his face with a shaking hand. He- gods, what was he _doing?_ Shame burned in his throat and he tasted bile, wanted to _puke,_ and the seething pain in his side didn't help any. He- what had he _done-_

A hand dropped on his shoulder and he shrank away, curling in on himself.

“What in Thor’s name _happened_?” Gobber asked, voice straining.

“He- he _can't_ be here, he _can't.”_ he croaked, “I left him a world away, I never wanted to see him again. I don't _want_ him here.”

“Gothi isn't confident about his prospects lad. If you've got something to say, I’d think long and hard about it. Get it off your chest, before it's too late.” Gobber sighed.

Cass had _no_ right to bring him here, he-

He didn't know anything more than a passing mention. He didn't _know,_ gods he was a fool. How could he do that, to _Cass?_ He only wanted to _help._ Eret forced himself to breathe again, raking fingers through his hair. He had words for the old man alright… And one hell of an apology for Cassian later. He rose from his seat and nudged the door open.

The stink of infection hit hard and was almost enough to turn his stomach again. But he had to see for himself. A man sat in a chair by the hearth, back to the door, and the familiarity of it all nearly made his knees give out. So _many_ of his earliest memories were just like this; waking up in the thick of a nightmare, running to his father in his chair by the fire and being told harshly, drunkenly, to go back to bed. _Years_ he spent like that, until they left everything behind for the open sea. He was barely seven then. Now his father was _here,_ and Gothi was tending to the mangled mess of his left arm with the Prickleboggle hovering anxiously around her. It… looked like a dragon bite. Probably deserved it. As much as he wanted to spin that chair around, he feared Gothi and her staff more than the sad old man next to her. And he _was_ old now, hair more grey than black, shoulders slumped and back bent… Gothi kept looking his way, increasingly uneasy, but she smacked his father every time he tried to do the same.

“It's a lost cause, just tell me where he is while I can still walk-” he grumbled.

Gothi swatted him again and even the Prickleboggle scolded him for good measure before dousing his arm with it's mist. He squawked in disgust, but Gothi’s grip was still strong as iron at his wrist as she wound clean bandages all the way up to his elbow.

“That angry boy said he was here, I just… I have many things to say. Please-”

“So say it then.” Eret finally said.

His father staggered to his feet, almost tripping on the rug and he looked every bit like he had seen a ghost. He was so much _smaller_ now, thinner, a shadow of a memory.

 _“Eret,_ gods you-” he sobbed, took a step closer-

 _“Stop._ You stop right there.” Eret raised a shaking hand, pointing at the man’s chest, _“_ You don't get some fairytale reunion, not after all this time. You don't get to sweep in and be a father again just because you got chewed on. You _had_ your chance to do all that, and you pushed me aside when I needed you most.”

He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. Gothi shuffled past him, leaving them alone.

“I know I could never replace your mother-” the old man tried to protest.

“‘Replace’?” he scoffed, near hysterics, “I can't even _remember her,_ there was nothing _to_ replace! You were all I had, and you were so wrapped up in yourself I had to grow up _alone.”_

His father blanched, “You don't-?”

“I was _three,_ how could I? All she is to me is a _gravestone.”_ he seethed, “I can't remember our _home,_ I can't remember our _village,_ all I remember is your _back_ until you dragged me onto a boat. And that dragon trapping turned out so well! If it wasn't for the _gods’_ luck Drago Bludvist would’ve _killed me.”_

His father quaked, slowly sitting back down, but Eret was not done.

 _“This_ is my home now, and I'm happy here. I don't need you, and I don't need an apology a decade too late. I'm _not_ going to waste more of my life groveling for your approval.”

With that, he stormed out and nearly crashed into Gobber, Cassian-

Hiccup, Astrid, Snotlout, they were all gathered out there and he couldn't bear to look at any of them. There was no way they didn't hear that.

“Eret, I'm sorry-” Cassian blurted.

“No, it's- You didn't _know.”_ he drew a ragged breath, “I need- I just need to be somewhere quiet for a bit, cool my head. I'll be back.”

He shuffled away, ignoring all the voices calling to him, even if Cassian’s heartbroken pleas cut like knives. He wasn't fit to face Cass, not like this. Skullcrusher found him on the path and he hopped into the saddle. He just… needed to get away, think, go home... and then beg for forgiveness.


	18. Chapter 18

Gobber grabbed him by the arm before he could give chase.

“Let ‘im go lad. Just just needs to air his head out. That was… that was tough.” he sighed.

Cassian sagged, struggling to keep his composure around so many other eyes. Until, a broken sob somewhere close cut through the fog in his head. Gothi’s hut… he slipped out of Gobber’s grip and walked inside, slow and mindless. If Eret wouldn't listen, _he_ would. He… could be a space between them, a messenger, if he had to.

Eret sr slumped in his chair, face buried in his hands, _shaking_ with weak, hitching sobs, and Cassian didn't know what to do. So, he pulled another chair over, sat down, stared into the fire and just… waited. Maybe the old man didn't know he was there, maybe he wasn't in the mood to talk, but Cassian was content to wait. He _heard_ all of that, and didn't know what to think. Eret had only said he was a ‘cold man’ not… anything else. But, perhaps he should've been able to guess, just from that little hint. At least guess that there was _more,_ something deep and painful that Eret didn't deserve being reminded of...

“I shouldn't have brought you here.” he muttered.

Eret sr sniffled weakly. “You- you only wanted to help.”

“It wasn't my place to force this on him.” he insisted, “Not with no warning.”

 _“I'm_ the one that should've known.” Eret sr rasped, “Just because I finally realized how badly I failed him, that- that doesn't mean he owes me his time.”

“I… may be able to pass something along. Not now, but, later.” he offered.

“No lad, I- I only had one thing for him. He left before- before it was ready. It's my own damn fault, for taking so long. But it was never _right…”_

Cassian shot him a curious look and Eret sr fished something from under his tunic, a flat white medallion with etchings on the surface. But, it was too small and dim to see.

“A portrait, of his mother. I just couldn't get it right no matter how hard I tried. And- I never realized he didn't _know_ her, how could I be such a _fool…”_

He quickly averted his eyes. He shouldn't be seeing that before Eret.

“I think, _that_ is a matter where I can't come between you. I'll try to warm him up to the idea, but... it is still for him to decide.”

God he was so tired… but Eret sr stared, brow furrowing as he struggled to focus.

 _“How_ is it you've come to wear our sigil?” he asked.

Cassian blinked, trying not to let the fleeting panic show.

“That- is a long story.” he said lamely.

There was no telling how he could react to _them,_ best not to say a thing. Yet. Still, Eret sr squinted almost _suspiciously,_ or maybe just deliriously, and Cassian stood.

“Well, I am weary and you need rest, we will speak more in the morning. There's a cot in the corner, goodnight.” he said in a rush.

With that, he turned on his heel and left, trying not to bolt like a deer. He would just… go home, unpack, and wait for Eret to return. The walk was entirely too long, his armor too heavy, and that _discomfort_ lingered where Eret had gripped him like a vice. He hadn’t been thinking clearly, he wasn't _himself_ , not with that wild look in his eyes… They had to talk about this, even if he'd never acted in such a way before and never would again. It was part and parcel of this whole thing with his father, and they had to tackle it one piece at a time.

Nightshade was waiting outside the stable, so he pulled down his pack and removed the saddle to hang up on it's proper pegs. After a sweet nuzzle she trundled off, probably for food, and none of the other dragons were around. Oddly, he was grateful. He could use the quiet. Slinking inside, he dumped his bag by the stairs to get the fire going again and there, he stripped off his armor. Over the last week, and especially now, he missed Eret’s hands over his shoulders, freeing him from the bulk of the breastplate that had probably worn bruises under every strap. He was unspeakably sore from wearing it all for so long, and winced as he shucked his coat off, back screaming in protest. That was left draped over a couple chairs to air out, he washed up, changed clothes… And Eret was still not home. He sat at the table as it grew darker, eyes growing heavy until he folded his arms, laid his head down…

Just for a minute…

***

He was such an _idiot,_ and said as much aloud. Skullcrusher agreed with a mild snort.

“Oh be quiet.” he muttered, and resumed his pacing.

How could he just _blow up_ like that? Not only at his old man, but at _Cassian._ Guilt and shame roiled in him, gnawed at his guts until he had to sit down or risk heaving his dinner over the cliff. He lost control enough to hurt Cassian, when he'd only wanted to help _._ As much as it hurt to admit, finally being able to _say_ all that, man to man, felt… maybe not good _._ More like lancing a wound, letting out pressure buried so deep he was finally deflating. Frustrations and injustices nearly as old as he was- gone, out in the open, _known._ And he never would've sought that out on his own. The old man may well have something to say, but he wasn't interested in excuses. In… a day or two, he would ask. But it was getting dark and Cassian would be waiting. He hoped.

Firelight just barely flickered between the shutters, and he hesitated with a hand on the latch. This was _his_ fault and he had to take responsibility. With a deep breath, he steeled himself and opened the door. Cassian was fast asleep with his head on the table, snoring lightly. Gods, he was that tired and still waited? With his heart in his throat, he crossed the room and brushed his fingers over Cass’s shoulder, a feather-light touch. He- he couldn't bring himself to do any more than that.

“Cass?”

He jolted up with a snort, then groaned as he wiped the drool from his cheek.

“Wasn’ ‘sleep.” he slurred.

Affection burned bright and stole the words from Eret’s mouth. But, he had to apologize, right now, while it was still fresh. He pulled another chair closer to sit while Cassian reoriented himself, scrubbing his eyes.

“Cass?” he asked again.

He blinked slowly, until a bolt of clarity struck. _“Eret,_ I- God, I shouldn’t have-”

“Wha- _no!_ Cass, I'm the one that lost my head! You couldn't have known-”

“I should’ve _guessed,_ or been more careful!That wasn't something to just dump on you!” Cassian insisted, taking his hand and squeezing it tight, “Not knowing is no excuse.”

“And it's not your fault that I never said more…” he swallowed hard, “I- you had your own troubles, I didn't want to pile _mine_ on top.”

The look that crossed Cassian’s face brought regret crashing back. _Heartbreak._

“Why should I get to voice my pain and not you? Am I so _frail_ that I could not help you in turn?”

He looked away but Cass turned him back with a gentle touch, fingertips curling at the corner of his jaw.

“I chose _all_ of you, not just what was good and easy. Your hurts are as my own, you don't have to carry everything by yourself. You can't drive me away, not with that. I am here whenever _you_ need me, you only have to ask.”

“Still, I- I lost my damn mind and I _hurt_ you.” his breath hitched, pulling a fresh ache from his ribs.

Cassian frowned, slowly nodding once, eyes downcast.

“You did. But you weren't _yourself,_ I know you never would otherwise. Anger has gotten the better of _me_ just the same, and turning it against the enemy doesn't make it _right._ It's… something we should both be mindful of.”

Eret nodded, unable to speak. This man… he was almost sure he didn't deserve-

Cassian kissed him, just the barest brush of lips. _Gods_ he missed this…

“It's late.” Cass sighed, “And we’re both exhausted. We can talk more in the morning.”

He nodded, and somehow followed upstairs despite his bones feeling like so much lead. Cassian slipped back down to bank the fire, then at their crates while he inched under the covers. Right, his ring… Cassian finally slotted beside him, a pressure and heat he sorely missed, and twined their fingers together.

“Your shoulder, the rest… How are you feeling?” Cassian asked softly.

“Still tender but… better. And I _have_ been resting.” he somehow still had the spark to tease.

“Good…”

They fell asleep hard and fast.

***

He didn't want to get up. Eret was warm, their bed was _soft,_ and a week of flying and sleeping rough hadn’t spared an inch of him from aches and pains. But they were starting that big move of the wild dragons today and- something icy clawed at his heart. Andarax, Crucible, Datura, Nightshade and the pack, _Foxglove…_ Would they go? He didn't want to think about it until now, and it wasn’t his choice to make anyway. They had wills of their own.

With no small measure of reluctance, they flopped out of bed and readied for the day. He helped tie Eret’s sling properly, then kept him seated to comb his hair and bind it back, nice and neat. How he'd _missed_ the little things… At the door he stopped dead and forced himself to breathe, ripped it open-

All their dragons had gathered in a pile before the threshold, blocking half the road. Skullcrusher, Tyrian, the whole Sickle-Scale pack, _everyone._ They roused one by one, untangling wings and tails and claws to make room for them to come out. But they all had this _look,_ like they knew what was coming. Dragons roared to the east, far away but coming closer fast, with Toothless at the head of the flock. 

Cassian dropped to his knees to throw his arms around Foxglove, then Nightshade when she rolled against him.

“The choice is yours.” he said weakly, “But you will _always_ be welcome here.”

The flock was coming closer, well over half the dragons on Berk by the looks of it and he quickly hugged Datura and the Wraiths in turn.

“I will _never_ forget you.” he swore.

Then he let go, lurching to his feet as wings thundered overhead. There was some feeling, a _thrumm_ just beyond the range of hearing. It was like the Call, but _outside_ and pressing in, commanding, but… gently. More like an offer, a promise. He screwed his eyes shut when his vision blurred, he- he couldn't watch them go, if they chose to follow. Wings around them pounded, blowing his coat back, tossing his hair-

After a confused rumble, the flapping stopped and five heavy thuds followed.

Cassian cracked one eye open.

Their dragons had crowded in close and the Sickle-Scale pack stood a few lengths off, looking to Nightshade in dismay while _she_ stared in shock at Foxglove. The little Sickle-Scale grappled her elder’s claw, hauling her back towards the rest of the flock with all her might, crying, _pleading_ to all of them.

“Fox, what are you-” he mumbled.

Nightshade whined, looking from Foxglove to her mother, who bowed her head slowly, heaving a resigned sigh. She hobbled closer, nuzzling her child sweet and forceful, rasping deep like a saw. The rest took their turn, one by one, crooning a heartbroken farewell. The Matron had one last moment, butting their heads together with an alarming crack and then she turned, casting her good eye over Cassian. He stood his ground but- she rumbled low and he _understood._ Not with words, no it was something deeper, older, beyond telling. A **question** clawed at his ears, something like **protection,** enveloping Foxglove and Nightshade. Would… he protect them? That _feeling_ sunk into his chest again, like an **affirmation.** With his heart in his throat, he nodded. The pack said their goodbyes to Foxglove, and the Matron cast her eye over them all one last time. 

“You are _always_ welcome here.” he said, voice sounding far away.

That sense of **affirmation** rang again, and the Sickle-Scales took flight, pursuing the huge flock where it had turned west. He swayed, almost going cross-eyed as that _feeling_ pulled out of his head. What- what was-

“Cass?” Eret caught him, and the shock of contact snapped him back.

“I'm sorry, I- I just felt strange.” he muttered, clinging to Eret’s arm.

That feeling, it wasn't gone entirely. The echoes of almost-words still pressed in from all sides, **concern** and **joy** and **curiosity**. When the dizziness passed and he could bear to open his eyes, he found _all_ their dragons staring.

“...Cass?” Eret asked again, “What’s wrong?”

“I don't _know,_ it's- I can't explain it.” he huffed in frustration, “You'll… probably think I've gone mad, but it's like- I'm _hearing_ them. The dragons. Almost like they're speaking _.”_

Eret’s brows furrowed, “They make plenty of _noise_ yeah, what-”

“No, it's _more_ than that. Feelings, almost like words, thoughts are just- _in_ my head, from _them.”_

Datura and Foxglove chirped, Andarax and Crucible crowded closer, and that _feeling_ intensified again, more solid and direct, **question** and **hearing-**

He crashed to his knees, dragging Eret down with him. His ears rang, vision swam-

A new voice cut in, a command for **quiet,** and the sounds abruptly stopped. But he still reeled, feeling almost seasick and Eret shaking him by the shoulders didn't help. That stopped too and strange, cold hands coaxed his head up. He could _almost_ see straight…

“Valka?” he rasped.

“What happened?” she asked, testing the heat of his brow against her palm.

“The dragons, their voices are _in my head.”_ he croaked. Valka would understand, wouldn't she?

“Valka, what is he talking about?” Eret’s voice strained, God be merciful, he wished he could explain-

“Bring him inside, I- I know of this.”

Valka had never sounded so _lost._ Eret somehow hoisted him up with one arm and the world _spun_ as they moved, until he was eased into a chair. He slowly lowered his head onto the table and prayed he wouldn't be sick. After a few deep breaths everything settled, more or less, and propped his head in the crook of his arm to find Valka pacing.

“You hear voices, but not as words? They were feelings, thoughts..?” she finally prompted, still pacing.

“Yes it- it started with…” no, not the Matron, “With _Toothless,_ his call to the others, then the leader of the Sickle-Scale pack, and the rest came after.”

She nodded, brows furrowing, “And, before this, have you ever felt something you can't explain _._ At the _edges_ of your mind, like a whisper, a pull-”

“A _call.”_ he finished, eyes going wide.

Eret stared between them, foundering in his confusion. Valka looked to him for more.

“Years ago I- this feeling started, pulling me north. It came and went but it was always like an _itch_ I couldn't scratch. Once I got here- no, on the _way_ here, it went away. But…” he frowned, “I felt it again, the other day. It drew me to Er- the trapper ship.”

Valka slumped into a chair, uncharacteristically shocked still.

“Stoick always said it was the wind playing tricks, before Cloudjumper came…” she said weakly, “In the nest it went quiet, but as I fought with them, shed _blood_ with them, I could hear them all around me. Voices without words, images, ideas…”

She raked her hair back, drawing a deep breath.

“It was overwhelming at first, but you can control it in time, _speak_ to them in their own way. It is… strange, I must confess, and it takes a little adjustment in how you think so they can understand. But-” she huffed a weak, bewildered laugh, “Cassian, this is a _gift_ only a few of us shared, I had no idea it would exist anywhere else. How on earth-”

If _she_ knew this, experienced it, could- could Hiccup as well? He was her son after all… and it's not like there weren't dragons all over the world. Maybe… could it be possible?

“Do you think…” he mused, finally sitting up straight, “Once, in a time before writing, a time beyond telling… everyone could? Or, even most _._ Dragons have always been here, as long as _we_ have surely, how could this power just happen now _?_ What if its always been there, just under the surface because we forgot how in our villages and cities…”

Valka nodded slowly, “I've wondered the same. But… maybe not all hope is lost. Hiccup is the same, it may be passed down a bloodli-”

She blanched, eyes flicking between him and Eret and something _bitter_ burned in his throat. She hadn't meant to, but the reminder that there was no family in their future… it stung. In ways he didn't expect, or had tried to forget, bury deep. Valka sensed the change in atmosphere and fidgeted.

“To keep it all out, try not to focus on the tickle around the edges, and the young ones aren't so good at controlling their voices. I'll- be out and about if you need me.” she said quickly, then paused as he felt the _tickle_ of a dragon pass by, "What do you _mean_ you knew? Cloudjumper-" 

She very nearly bolted to the door, and Cassian released a shaky breath as the latch shut once more. As the silence settled he could almost feel the questions rolling around in Eret’s head, but his heart _hurt._

_“Bloodlines.”_ he scoffed, so bitterly, “Never thought that would be something I’d lose sleep over.”

“You wanted children?” Eret finally asked.

He… shrugged. “I've wondered, considered… maybe hoped. But I can't have that _and_ you. There's no contest between what I already have and a distant possibility.”

“If-”

“In this or _any_ life, I swore to you.” he covered Eret’s hand where it fidgeted on the table, “And I meant it. It will take a lot more than grabbing my arm or _thinking_ about children to make me go back on my word. Because _you_ are worth it.”

Eret’s breath hitched, but he nodded, lips pressing thin. He shuffled over, practically crawling into Eret’s lap to hold him tight and there they stayed for a time, until a little chuckle slipped past his lips.

“Not going to ask about the whole ‘talks to dragons’ revelation?” he teased.

 _“That's_ still sinking in. And... it does explain a few things, about you _and_ Valka. I did wonder how you could fly so well on your first day.” Eret admitted.

“I… well, that does make sense, how I just _knew,_ how I felt it in my bones but…” he frowned, pursing his lips, “Why am I only hearing them now?”

“Well, there was that- wait. Hiccup said something about the Sickle-Scale pack acting weird during the battle?” Eret offered.

“That was almost two weeks ago… It could’ve just happened, or been the right time for all we know.”

Eret could only shrug, resting his chin over Cassian’s shoulder.

“It'll make finding Datura’s home easier, once you get the hang of it.”

A _thrill_ bolted through him. “It _will,_ heavens above… and we won't have to worry about any dragons there being hostile, I can just explain! _”_

“And you can see if Skullcrusher has secretly hated me all this time.”

“He does _not,_ don't joke like that.” he scolded, but… they still had to talk about yesterday too, “Eret… I won't ask you to talk to him, or even listen _,_ but he has something for you and- I think you'll want to see it.”

Eret sighed, _“What_ is it?”

He pulled back, enough to look him in the eye.

“It's a portrait, of your mother.”

Eret’s breath left him in a rush and _pain_ creased around his eyes.

“I didn't look, it… wouldn't be right for _me_ to see her first. But…” he cradled Eret’s face in his hands, “I think, you have _her_ eyes. Probably her smile too.”

Eret said nothing, lips pressing thin when they threatened to tremble. This would shake his whole world, to finally see her...

“I- I can't. Not today.” he sighed shakily.

“I can be there, if you want.”

Eret nodded slowly, eyes slipping shut. But after a time, he shifted, hissing in discomfort.

“I love you Cass, but you're getting heavy and I can't feel my legs.”

The warmth that flushed through him was enough to mask the insult. After a few kisses he moved to let Eret up and a _tickle_ crawled along one ear. He shook his head but it persisted like a _buzz_ and a voice came with it, soft and far away like a whisper, posing a **question.** It curled in his ears like a purr, a familiar thrumm. 

“Cloudjumper?” he said aloud, and Eret looked at him strangely.

The thrumm turned into a **confirmation,** then back to a **question** that washed over him head to toe, asking- if he was alright. He could talk back this way, couldn't he? He tried to _will_ that same feeling of confirmation outwards, and a pleased thrumm answered him. Well, that wasn't so hard. But, Cloudjumper _would_ know how to talk this way with a human, wouldn't he? The others might be harder, but this only left his ears itching for a moment. It must've been so many voices at once that nearly knocked him flat.

“Uh, Cloudjumper’s… talking?” Eret asked slowly.

Cassian jolted, and **amusement** rippled around him.

“Yes, he was just checking in. It's _easier_ when he does it, less… loud.” he struggled to explain, “Maybe he can teach the pack how to speak more quietly.”

Eret could only shrug, “I'm sure Valka'll tell Hiccup the second he gets back, which means he’ll come asking. Dragon Island isn't so far, they should be back in a few hours. This is…”

He struggled for words, but Cassian knew what he meant. Strange, but not _bad._

“At least I won't be growing _scales.”_ he teased.

“Maybe that's a shame _,_ then I wouldn't have to worry about you so much.” Eret teased back, grappling him close.

 _“You're_ the one in a sling Eret.”

“It's temporary, Gobber says I only need another week or two. We can plan that trip in the meantime.”

Right, Datura’s island...

“If those caves connect islands and the same mushrooms grow here as there… it must be a big area, at least as big as Berk with caves they can easily get into, live in…” Cassian thought deeply, “What if there are Night Furies too? Or Stormcutters, Hotburples, _Rumblehorns._ Toothless isn't the only one that's alone here. Well- not _alone,_ but they don't have any of their own kind around. And… if there are any, maybe we could invite some of them back to see Berk.”

“So we play _matchmaker_ for our bachelors?” Eret chuckled.

“That makes it sound… _arranged.”_ he winced, “But, we shouldn't get our hopes up. There could just as easily be nothing.”

“Yeah… I wonder what a baby Rumblehorn even looks like.”

“Or a _Stormcutter._ Their wings must be so little fresh out the egg.”

***

As he expected, Valka rode out to meet Hiccup and they both spirited Cassian away, leaving him to his own devices. His father… it sounded like this little portrait was all he had in mind, his only mission. If that was the case, he could keep a level enough head. But if he couldn't… he didn't want Cass to see that, not again. He’d drag the old man somewhere quiet, more private for that. Sighing, he meandered down in the general direction of the smithy, which was _unusually_ busy. A crowd had gathered around all the stall windows, parting hastily around the door to let Gobber storm out.

 _“Somebody_ go get Hiccup, Cassian, Eret, _anyone!_ Get this menace _out_ of my shop!” he howled, marching up the road.

“Gobber, what’s wrong?” he shouted, jogging to catch him up.

“That- that old _seal.”_ Gobber seethed, “He's putting his nose into _everything!_ I canna’ get anything done and he just won't leave!”

He grabbed Eret by his good shoulder and shook him, nearly hysterical.

“Sounds like my old man alright…” he muttered, “I was looking for him anyway.”

He waved Gobber aside and, with great reluctance, made his way to the smithy. It was just like the old man to get up in where he had no business being. The smithy now, his ‘room’ back then… Better not let it slip where his house was, on that thought. He elbowed through the crowd and froze in the doorway, prickling. His father was rooting through _Cassian’s_ tools, then the finished glass, and that wasn't going to happen on his watch.

 _“Dad,_ knock it off.” he snapped, and shock rippled through the crowd.

He strode right in and his father flinched, like a child caught with the honey. Weaving between all the tables and benches he pushed and pulled the old man towards the back door, kicking it open.

“Got a little… carried away.” his father muttered, appropriately ashamed.

“I noticed.” he tried to withhold his venom, “It takes a _lot_ to drive Gobber that crazy, even the twins can hardly manage anymore.”

“Those skinny blond kids?”

“Oh good, you've _met_ them.”

He didn't feel the least bit guilty for the smug smile that managed to crack through his frown. The Thorstons were terrors at the best of times, but they must've put on quite the show.

“Eh, where are we going?” his father asked.

“Somewhere _quiet.”_ he said shortly, “You can say your piece, just know I'm not in the mood for any excuses.”

“No, I suppose you're not…”

Eret marched them along the back paths and down to the docks, ignoring the muffled gasp of shock at the sight of his boat. There were plenty of crates and chests around, so he took a seat and looked over expectantly as his father fidgeted, before settling down himself. He stared at the planks, brow furrowed, and finally spoke.

“There _are_ no excuses. I couldn't be a father the one time you needed me to be, or any time after until I lost my chance.” he paused long enough to scrub his face, he was _crying,_ “I- I don't know why I thought you would remember her at all, you were just a _baby._ But all those years I wanted to make something so you would at least know what she looked like, and it- it was never good enough, it wasn't _her._ And then… I was too late, for any of it.”

He had to stop for slow, shuddering gasps to keep more tears at bay, and Eret… didn't know what to think. In truth, the _not knowing_ had eaten at him, even moreso as a child. There was a void where any memory, any at all should be. Once he'd thought himself a cruel, terrible son for not even knowing her _name_. But, if this portrait was done…

“I kept trying anyway, just- just in case. Finally got it right.” his father sniffled, pulling at a cord around his neck.

He worked the whole necklace off, and Eret stood to meet him half way, folding the flat pendant into his hand, covering it. He- he couldn't look just yet, and paced back and forth, up and down the length of the dock, fighting the pangs in his heart and the anxious roil of his stomach, until he finally just _forced_ himself. With a sharp inhale, he let his fingers uncurl and they ached from how hard they'd been clenched around… a disk of walrus ivory, polished smooth. He turned it over and his heart stopped entirely.

He wasn't one to stare into a mirror, but he _knew_ the eyes that looked back, the _smile_ that gathered around them. She was beautiful. He choked on a sob, and had to sit on a barrel when his legs threatened to give out. She had a face, but-

“What was her name?” he could barely get the words out.

“Einna.” his father answered, barely above a whisper.

He ground the heel of his palm into one eye until he saw stars, then… slipped the cord over his head. He wasn't ready to thank the old man, not yet, but he offered a cursory nod and tucked the pendant under his shirt. He inhaled slow, slow as he could, exhaling even slower. That _feeling_ struck through his core again, like pressure coming off a bruise.

“I'll… be out of your hair once the ship catches up. We’ll find _something_ to keep ourselves busy now that dragons are out of the picture. That… friend of yours knows how to make a point.” the old man rubbed at the back of his neck.

“He learned from the best of the best.” he smirked weakly.

“Who _is_ he exactly? Must be quite the fighter to ride a Deathgripper _.”_

Well, Cass called it. That was an _awful_ name.

“Like you wouldn't believe. Got me out of a tight spot down south a year ago, and took out Drago’s old top-dog all on his own just last week.” he wanted to brag, but also didn't want to reveal _too_ much. There was no telling what he would say.

His father looked like he'd seen a ghost.

_“What?”_

“We beat Drago and his poor monster back a year ago, and we’ve been cleaning up his army ever since. They made their last stand, and we made our position clear. Could've wiped them off the face of the map, but they were shown _mercy.”_ he frowned, picking at his sling, “And I'm sure Cassian can send you off with the same information. Maps, trade, all that.”

His father was silent for a moment, staring at his arm, the bruises too probably.

“...did _they_ do that to you?”

He winced, “In a manner of speaking. I fell, their _ship_ did the rest. I would’ve been done for if Cass hadn’t kicked that bastard in the head. Shame I couldn't see it happen. But, we’ve got Drago’s metal arm and bullhook and Ragnar’s sword making nice trophies above the mantle in the Great Hall.”

His father almost said something more, but he ducked sharply when a Gronckle fluttered by, not even remotely close to them. Right, old habits.

“So you… _ride_ dragons.” he croaked, peeking back up at the sky.

“I'm surprised it took you this long to take issue.” Eret rolled his eyes.

“I think the fever left me not questioning much. Don't even remember flying here. Nothin’ like an angry Zippleback to knock you down a few pegs.” he sighed, flexing his left hand, “That _little_ beastie worked wonders.”

“Funny what changes when you stop treating them like monsters.” he said, as much to himself. _He_ was no better once upon a time.

His father flinched, looking away, “You must think me cruel-”

“No more than _I_ was.” he cut in, “I had to be dragged away from that life kicking and screaming, at first anyway. But they _proved_ me wrong.”

His father looked back, mouth opening-

Only to scream and throw himself face-down on the dock. Eret whirled, then ducked as Datura careened just over his head. She crash-landed in a pile of nets and Foxglove tumbled out of her grasp, both groaning.

 _“Datura,_ you can't be flying around with her like that!” he scolded.

Damn, that came out sharper than he intended. The Fury wilted, hunched in on herself, averted her eyes- His heart twisted and he quickly crouched before her, stroking her brow.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have shouted…” he murmured, “You aren't big and strong like Toothless yet, you have to be careful with her.”

Datura chirped in that soft, sad way, finally meeting his eyes, but… something was _different._ He squinted, tilting his head a bit and she mirrored him with a curious peep. Her blue eyes were _fading_ , almost flushing gold around the pupils. It was probably just a quirk, but he would check with Valka later-

_“Eret.”_

He spared a glance back and snorted in amusement. Foxglove had the old man backed up against a stack of crates and _kept_ advancing, sniffing eagerly at his boots.

“She's fine, just stay still.” he stood and waved for Datura to follow, “We’ve raised her since she was barely out the egg, she won't hurt you unless you hurt _her._ But… she _is_ teething so mind your boots, she's already minced a pair of mine- Fox, hey, _no._ No chewing.”

She froze with her mouth hanging open over the toe over one of his shoes, and slowly licked the leather instead. His father shook, eyes shifting between him and the dragon. Foxglove grew bored with the footwear and sauntered over to sniff his arm, and keened in concern, nosing at his hand and rolling his arm over her back to tuck against his side.

“Hey, hey it's alright, it's getting taken care of. Come on, you're freaking him out, Fox-”

She ignored him and crawled into his father’s lap, bracing her claws on his chest to crane up and sniff his face, then butt up under his jaw. He let out a bewildered huff, staring down in shock before slowly looking to Eret. He shrugged.

“Could’ve been a Nadder. They're a _lot_ heavier.” he snorted, “Alright you two, back home, come on. Enough harassment. Shoo.”

Datura tackled Foxglove off, swatting the old man in the face with her tail fin as they flailed. She grappled the little Sickle-Scale close and fluttered back up to Berk and his father watched them go, slowly wiping the drool from his face.

“That was-” he croaked.

 _“That_ is every day on Berk. This is who they are, and who I am now. We take pride in what we’ve built, and we’ve fought hard for it. We’ll _keep_ fighting if we have to.” he grit his teeth, and offered a hand to help the old man up.

The walk back up the hill was hard for both of them, for different reasons. Eret’s ribs ached fiercely, but he powered through it, all the way up the switchback path. Datura sailed by again on the sea breeze, Foxglove squealing in delight as her tiny wings flapped in the wind. At the village proper, the two of them rounded a corner, down a path between homes and a voice carried over the rooftops.

“No, _no_ Foxglove don-” a heavy thud and uproarious laughter got Eret sprinting.

He slipped in the dirt, nearly falling a few times as he followed and halfway down the lane he found Cassian knocked flat into a stack of hay, Foxglove perched on his chest and Datura clambering up to join her.

 _“Both_ of you are grounded.” he groaned.

Datura licked a broad stripe up the side of his face, and Eret almost keeled over laughing.

“Are you going to help or not?” Cassian groused.

“Yes, yes okay, you two are in trouble _now.”_ he chuckled weakly, “So, what did the dragon whisperers have to say?”

He elbowed Datura back, which was no small feat considering she was longer than _he_ was tall now and fully intent on giving Cass a tongue-bath.

“Some tricks, some hints, talked with Cloudjumper and Toothless a little…” Cass huffed, levering out of the hay, “These two still set my head spinning, but Cloudjumper’s trying to teach them too.”

“It's a start. We’ve got time, so don't force yourself.” he gave Datura another push, and pulled Cassian up.

“Yes, I _know…”_

“And I wanted to ask Valka… I think Datura’s _eyes_ are changing color.” he frowned, looking again.

“Well, that happens with crows I think, _t_ heir eyes start blue and turn black. It's probably just her growing up.” Cassian shrugged, “Her little flaps are getting more frilly too.”

“You two might be able to give Hiccup and Toothless a run for their money one of these days. We’ve never seen a Fury-on-Fury race before.” he chuckled.

“I make no promises.”

Cassian set Foxglove down and Eret took the chance to pick the straw out of his hair, tousling the long coils for good measure. Who _cared_ if his old man was probably right them, the disgruntled wrinkle in Cass’s nose was too _cute._ He stole a quick kiss and steered Cassian away, off to find Valka, or something.

***

“Yes, they _do_ seem to be changing.” Valka hummed, peering into Datura’s eyes, “But, I agree, it's probably nothing serious. Your little pearl is just growing up.”

Datura sneezed, jerking her head out of Valka’s hands and Cassian pursed his lips.

“Do you think… she could show us where she comes from? Like, a memory?” he asked.

 _“Maybe,_ most can only pass on feelings, thoughts… Only the _most_ intelligent, the most like _us_ can do more than that. Or, it could just be a limit of our own minds, not theirs. We are still so very different at the end of the day.” she shrugged.

He looked to Eret, who shrugged as well, _“Any_ information is better than none. And, we were thinking… There may just be other dragons on this island.”

“Probably.” Valka said, scratching Foxglove’s chin.

“What if there are more Stormcutters, or Rumblehorns? Or even-” he dared say it, _“Night Furies?_ This island could be completely untouched!”

She paused, shoulders slumping, “I- I don't know if that's even _possible_ anymore.”

 _“She_ would.”

Cassian slowly sat in the grass and gently **called** with a question to Datura. She peeped, auricles flaring and scurried over to crawl into his lap, returning his **question** with one of her own. It was still disorienting, but not so bad as before. How did one ask a dragon where they were from? He pressed with the feel of **home,** tinged with a question, then **family,** and Datura tilted her head sharply, **unsure.** He frowned, and tried an **image** of two larger Furies over a nest with an egg- A wave of **sorrow** hit him like a blow to the chest as Datura keened, even Valka flinched. Sensations whirled; falling, a place unfamiliar, a burning phantom pain around his neck, blinding panic… Her memories of being _captured,_ and last, the image of an island like a castle of old, sheer cliffs that rose into low clouds and that feeling of **home.**

“Oh, my little pearl…” he sniffled, stroking her back.

But, images _worked._ He let the thought flow, _gently,_ of him and Tyrian, Eret and Skullcrusher, with her between them, flying over the ocean with that island rising in the distance. She perked, a **question** of a question rippling between them.

“We’re going to take you _home.”_ he said out loud, “Not today, but soon. We’ll find it together.”

Datura knocked him flat as she surged upward, planting her paws against his chest and jamming her head under his jaw, purring herself breathless.

“Easy, easy-” he wheezed.

She relented, but nuzzled under his chin to thrumm, **joy** ringing around his head like a bell until he nearly went cross-eyed. He managed to work out a plea for **quiet,** and the voice calmed to a soft ripple as Datura kneaded his coat in her paws. He brought forward **teasing** and **amusement,** then the memory of a kitten kneading it's mother’s belly and she squawked, glaring as **dissent** and **insult** simmered under the surface. He just poked her nose. But there was still the matter of other dragons…

“I'm… going to try asking about what lives on the island.” he said, for Eret’s sake.

He let **question** hang around them, then pushed the image of the tower-island, **home,** and Datura chirped **question** and **affirmation.** He pulled up memories of Grump, Skullcrusher, Cloudjumper, and Toothless, their calls, the sound of their wings, then the island again and **question.** She considered a moment, answering only with a sense of **familiarity** and memories of similar calls, vague shapes, and-

He froze as a hauntingly familiar shriek echoed in the back of his head, followed by a purple blast of fire behind his eyes that made his teeth ache. A wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to beg Datura for quiet, nudging her back so he could sit up. He swayed, but a warm weight settled behind him.

“Don't strain yourself…” Eret scolded, brushing his hair back.

“She-” he shuddered, stomach churning, “She _remembers_ a Night Fury. Maybe some of the others, but a Night Fury was there.”

Valka snapped to stare in shock, “You're _sure?”_

“As sure as I can be. We won't know until we get there…” Cassian sighed.

“Well, that sounds like good news all around.” Eret coiled an arm around his waist.

“Hiccup will want to know…” Valka frowned, brows pinching.

“And probably come along.” Eret snorted.

Valka agreed, with a fond but exasperated nod.

“We can study the maps until Eret is fit to fly that far. It's west, that much we know, and she may be able to guide us at a certain point. But, a target area would be helpful.” Cassian shrugged, leaning back against Eret.

“There _is_ much to do… It would have to wait anyway.” Valka nodded, “We will see.”

Practice helped. Too many voices for too long was still enough to knock him on his ass, but he could _talk_ with all of them. Tyrian’s thoughts were soft, easy, full of affection, but he could understand only the most simple and primitive questions. It was certainly better than nothing. Skullcrusher was _different,_ his thoughts and memories were tied almost entirely to scent, not sight. Crucible and Andarax were a step above, more like Cloudjumper in their ability to reason and question him in turn, and he was right. They _were_ absolutely smitten, and… Crucible was a _female,_ all Glass Wraiths were. Somehow, they could lay eggs all on their own. She was caught far from her nest, but had been striking out on her own anyway. Here she would stay, and Andarax with her. And that, well… Cassian had a good cry over that. Even _dragons_ could be like them.

Datura, Nightshade and Foxglove were in a league all their own, so nearly and eerily _human-_ mostly. Foxglove wasn't as developed and her thoughts were scattered, fleeting, and memories sparse. There was no glimmer of her life before the cage, just _him._ And- she still begrudged Eret for her first bath, which he took great joy in recounting. _Heavens_ she'd grown so much, nearing his knee as they walked and her wings were finally catching up with the rest of her. She would be flying soon enough, and she had a whole _flock_ to teach her. Nightshade was loath to show him anything more from her time with the hunter, the one time she tried he _did_ vomit and was sick for hours after. They had been trapped in their cave, starved to weakness, then _enslaved_ with their own venom, somehow. But, not _by_ the hunter, it was someone else and he took them, stole them away. As soon as he could sit up, he held her for _hours,_ assuring _never again_ until he passed out over her neck.

From Cloudjumper, and moreso Toothless, he _saw_ the Bewilderbeast and it's attack on Berk. The fire they rained down on it, the waves of ice it levied against them, it's roar, deafening, command, overwhelming-

A warm trickle down his lips and chin shocked him awake, slumped against Toothless’s side. His nose was _bleeding._ Toothless keened, nudging into the hand that wasn't stemming the flow from his face. How- how could that happen? It must be Toothless himself, his voice was just _too_ strong, the memory too powerful. He shouldn't do that again…

He slunk home to wash his face, almost guiltily. He didn't want Eret to worry any more than he already was with his father around. They had some sort of talk that day, he just _knew_ it, but Eret hadn’t said anything yet and he wouldn't force the issue. So, he tidied the house, swept from top to bottom, ate with everyone else in the Great Hall… and Eret was still not there. Home he went, and though it was early, he tucked into bed and plucked listlessly at his lute. Maybe he could learn some new songs once they got home, from his old teacher. And… get another lute, so he could teach Eret and they could play these songs properly. The instruments _here_ just didn't sound right, the wood and strings were too different, and these songs weren't meant to be played alone…

The door creaked, and he snapped from his daze.

“Cass?” Eret called.

“Upstairs.” he answered, almost croaking.

After a little rummaging, Eret joined him, looking worn and exhausted. He made room for Eret to slip into bed and started to reach for the candle, but a warm hand closed around his wrist, and pulled him back.

“Not- not yet.” he murmured, “Sorry, I was helping Fishlegs.”

Eret shifted a little, sitting up a bit higher as he tugged at a cord around his neck, pulling the flat pendant through his fingers. Wait. His heart froze as Eret pulled the cord over his head, and turned the pendant over and over in his fingers.

“I… talked to Dad.” he said, so softly, “You were right.”

And he passed the pendant over.

He took it, barely holding the edges with shaking fingers and his breath caught. It was a portrait, carved into the bone disk in impossibly thin lines, stained dark somehow and the detail was incredible. She had a soft face, almost more like Valkas’s, long straight hair, strong brows… and there was _no_ mistaking those eyes, or that smile, forzen forever in her youth. He sighed weakly, leaning into Eret’s side. 

“She’s beautiful…” 

Eret nodded silently, cheek pressed to the top of his head.

***

He spent most of the next week alternately avoiding his father and babysitting him in the smithy while Gobber and Cassian worked. If he didn't know any better, he’d say the old man was _infatuated_ with their smith and he made every effort to notthink about the prospect. He was only so much help with one hand, but he could still do a little to make Cassian’s life easier, and the whole glassmaking process had his father spellbound, even if the proximity and presence of Crucible made him nervous. He was… getting better about that, managing not to flinch every time a dragon swooped by at least. He even seemed interested in _Grump_ which put Gobber in a right jealous state for some reason. 

But the boat should be here any day now, according to the scouts and… Eret didn't know what to think. How to _feel._ His father had changed in a way, but he just wasn't ready to say all was forgiven, not after all this time. Understanding, even a little, had only left him more lost. But he was fairly certain the old man had gleaned Cassian was more than just a friend, and had yet to say a word about it. Perhaps he had acquired tact at some point in the last decade. He _could,_ perhaps… extend an invitation to their wedding, though they didn't have a proper date yet. For pure practicality it would be sometime in spring, but they had to wait for Hiccup to decide first. Maybe he could start with an offer to visit in a month or two, they should know by then… He had a feeling his mother would approve, wherever she was, and that mattered more than making his father happy.

He let out a long, aggravated sigh, flopping back in the grass and startling Crush from his nap. Why was this so hard?

 _“There_ you are.”

He rolled his eyes as Stormfly landed, extending a wing for Astrid to slide down and sit beside him.

“Go away, I'm _‘brooding’.”_ he huffed.

“I can see that.” she snarked back, but her face quickly softened, “Not sure what to do?”

He nodded, shielding his eyes against the sun as he sighed again.

“Well, you've already gotten past the hardest part. Gave the guy a piece of your mind, learned something new…” she laid back and stretched, “So, now what do you _want?_ Because, if you aren't sure, leaving your options open _is_ an option. You don't have to slam the door behind him any more than you have to welcome him in with open arms.”

“I was thinking along those lines…” he admitted, “Leave him with an offer to come back in a few months, and if we pick a date by then... invite him to the wedding.”

Astrid hummed, “Neutral, plenty of time between visits… Not a _bad_ plan.”

“Just not sure how he’ll react. To… _us.”_

“Well, he has been very _keen_ on Gobber.” she grimaced.

 _“Thor_ don't remind me, it's like watching a puppy.”

“You could rest easy knowing you don't have the same taste in men.” she snickered.

 _“Astrid!”_ he squawked, whipping to glare at her, face flaming.

She just cackled, and even the dragons joined her. She had her fun and eventually wound down to hiccuping giggles, wiping tears from her eyes.

“Cass was going over those maps with him the other day, probably making the same friendly suggestion. And, he’ll probably take the offer.” he muttered.

 _Damn_ this sling itched… but Gothi had insisted on another week.

“Probably.” Astrid agreed, slowly sitting up, “He seems pragmatic enough.”

“Yeah… always was when it mattered.”

They were content to sit in silence for a time, enjoying the sunshine. It would only get colder from here on as summer waned, and they had to worry about the harvest, shoring up for winter…

“So, this trip Hiccup’s so excited about…” Astrid sighed, “Are you _sure_ there are Night Furies? This whole ‘dragon-speak’ thing… I don't know if I buy it. Why would Hiccup not _tell_ me something like that?”

“He probably thought you wouldn't believe him.” he said pointedly, “I _saw_ Cass drop like a brick Astrid, several times. We both know he can't hide a thing, not like this. And doesn't this _explain_ everything? Valka and Cloudjumper could fight flawlessly without a word, I saw that first hand! Hiccup and Toothless are the same, and even Cass with Tyrian, their very first flight…”

“Still, wouldn't that have been helpful to know, with everything that's happened?”

“Astrid, do you trust him? _”_ Eret sat up to look her square in the eye.

She sagged. “Yes.”

“Then trust _him w_ hen he says this is real, and that he's been doing what’s right. Would knowing have changed anything at all?” he pressed.

“Probably not… It still would’ve been nice to _know.”_

“Well, now you know and you can ask him a million questions. That's how I found out Foxglove's _still_ mad I upended a bucket over her head. Who'd've thought?”

He snorted, and Astrid cracked a small smile.

The village was uneasy at the sight of a ship near their shores, familiar though it was, and Eret sighed. He would ferry the old man there… after one last little talk, out on the cliffs. There they sat, while he struggled to put the words together. 

“I’ll be married in the spring.” he finally said, “Not sure exactly when yet, it has to be after the chief’s. We’ll know for sure in a month or so… you could come by then.”

His father looked up, uncertain and almost hopeful.

“I can't forgive you, not yet.” he continued, fiddling with the cord around his neck, “But you're trying. And… that's all the difference.”

His father nodded slowly.

“So the, uh… the glassmaker lad?” he finally asked, “Never thought I’d have a _son_ in-law. That… must be quite the story.”

“For another time.” Eret sighed, lurching to his feet, “We’ll get you out there. You have that map?”

“Yeah, right here.” he patted his bag, where parchment crinkled, “Imagine that, riding a dragon…”

Skullcrusher crouched to let his father on, and Eret was _almost_ proud that he didn't hesitate once. He took his proper spot and Skullcrusher dove off the cliff after a gently running start. It was an easy glide down but his father kept stock-still, muttering an old prayer until they crested the rails and landed on the empty deck. Well, not entirely empty. The crew slowly peeked out from their hiding places behind crates and within the holds, and the murmuring started. Skullcrusher snorted, eyeing them all warily.

“Shove off, the lot of you!” his father barked, wiggling bonelessly out of the saddle, “Hope you boys like the heat, 'cause we’re going south!”

A confused chorus of ‘What?’s rounded the ship.

“Got insider information worth _far_ more than dragons, you better learn how to cut lumber and quick!” he marched unsteadily across the deck to the tiller.

“Eret, what are you doing? You're _agreeing_ with this?” one man seethed.

He looked on reflex and the man stared back, confused at first then drooping in shock. And that shock spread, with the rest of the crew looking back and forth between them.

“Yes you _idiots_ that's my son! Close your mouths before you start catching flies.” his father groused, “If you can't handle a slight change in profession, you're more than welcome to _piss off_ at the next port. Now let's turn this tub around and get going, we’ve got a tight schedule!”

That was his old man alright…

“You know when to be back. Don't get lost in the woods down there!” he shouted.

His father just laughed, “Wouldn't miss it for the world!”

With a tap, Skullcrusher wheeled, scattering the crew with the force of his wings as he powered back into the sky, homeward, and Eret dared to feel… hopeful.

His ribs were far better after another week, though his left arm was still a little weak and sore about the shoulder even with Cassian’s loving touch. Best not to strain it, just to be safe. They had a general area to search, supplies packed, and they were ready to leave in the morning. Cass intended to wear his firescale over his coat again, but his Rumblehorn armor… that wouldn't be up to the task. There would be time to gather scales and repair it through the winter, and his arm couldn't manage gliding anyway. At least this wouldn't be _too_ long of a trip. 

“Have you seen my hair tie?” Cassian called from downstairs.

“Up here, on the table.” he shook his head fondly.

“I'll have to roll a few _hundred_ of these.” he huffed, marching back up, “I swear they migrate when I'm not looking.”

“And Datura steals them.” Eret snorted, “I'll bet there's a dozen under the shelves.”

“She's lucky we love her.” Cassian scoffed, gathering his hair to bind it back.

He hummed, taking those few steps over to card his fingers through the loose strands low at his nape, letting them slip free slowly.

“It's getting long.” he observed, “It barely hit your shoulders last year.”

Cassian nodded, leaning into his touch, “I think I'll let it grow out a little more.”

“Gonna have to be on our _best_ behavior with Hiccup and Valka coming…”

“Don't _remind_ me…” he groaned, burying his face in Eret’s chest.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around Cassian’s shoulders to rock them both side to side.

“So, who are you riding with tomorrow?” he asked.

“Whoever I pick, the other will follow. But, probably Tyrian for the sake of comfort. Nightshade is a gem, but I need a _break.”_ Cass rolled his shoulders.

“I'm sure he’ll be _thrilled.”_ he huffed another little laugh.


	19. Chapter 19

They rose with the sun to ready their dragons, and Tyrian squealed when _his_ saddle came off the pegs. He had improved greatly over the last month, especially with Nightshade keeping him active in their… well it might just be some sort of Sickle-Scale mating ritual for all they knew. Nightshade wasn't forthcoming with any details. The scar was still pink and bare of scales, but his leg was stronger by far than it had been and he only limped when it was particularly cold. Nightshade was enlisted to carry what bags Skullcrusher and Cloudjumper couldn't, which was only _his_ pack so far and maybe an extra waterskin or two. She accepted the task a little begrudgingly, something about it lacking… honor? Valour? Was all he could gather. But he and Eret dressed, ate a light breakfast, and would meet the Haddocks at their house on the hill, once they roused Datura.

“Come now little pearl, today is the day.” he cooed, tickling under her chin.

She had packed into the corner of the den with Foxglove and the Wraiths, all tangled up like so many kittens and she was loath to move. At least until he poked her nose a few times. _Then_ she woke with a snort, reflexively swatting at his hand.

“Come, while you still have time to eat.” he tugged one of her little ear-flaps.

Datura yawned and slowly flopped out of the dragon-pile, stretching hard as she gathered her legs under her, knocking into Foxglove on the way. The little Sickle-Scale roused, blinking sluggishly and she looked to him. She whined, almost **pleading** with him not to go, and he sighed, gently cupping her cheeks. This was for Datura, her **family** was waiting and it was his **duty** to bring them together. **Protest** answered him, **they** were her family, her **kin.**

“I'm sorry kitten, but it's the right thing to do. Maybe, they'll all want to come back with us.” he murmured, stroking her brow.

Foxglove curled up into a sullen ball, burrowing under Crucible’s wing. Heart panging, he left with Datura at his side. She leaned her head against his hip as they walked, blinking slowly and only _truly_ perking at the scent of food. He left her with Skullcrusher, Tyrian and Nightshade at the trough and followed Eret uphill, where everyone else was waiting.

“Everyone ready?” Hiccup asked, trailing into a yawn.

“Ready.” he answered, “Our dragons are eating.”

“Nightshade has room to spare if you need to bring anything else.” Eret added.

Valka shook her head, and patted Cloudjumper’s wing.

“Well, they need breakfast too. So let's check everything one last time-”

Hiccup led the way back down, muttering to himself as the dragons rushed ahead. They had food, water, blankets, a map…

“Damn, my helmet.” he groaned, “Be right back.”

He set off at a jog and found his helm right where he left it, next to their rings on the kitchen table, as well as Eret’s new goggles. Well, good thing he came back. They were a work of _art;_ reinforced glass lenses shaded above and below with leather flaps and heavily padded with felt, with a sturdy leather strap. They were a good alternative to a full helmet, especially with winter coming. He would have to make more, _many_ more.

Cassian rejoined the riders, passed Eret his goggles, donned his helm and it had been so long since he rode his Nadder, he'd almost forgotten how to get into the saddle. It took a little settling, adjusting his feet in the stirrups, but his _bones_ remembered this. As one their little flock took to the sky, turning their backs to the rising sun. He sent **question** to Datura and she swooped closer, almost trembling with **excitementjoyenergy-** until Cloujumper cut in to gently coax her back with a reminder of **quiet, gentle.** Datura tossed her head and chimed **question** back, looking down expectantly. He frowned, thinking hard, before posing **question** and **home** and **direction** against the image of them flying. She hummed and her auricles twitched, and he was faintly aware of a meandering _tickle_ between his ears, like tracing an invisible line. She shot to the head of the flock, adjusting their course ever-so-slightly southwards. Good, good… he shook his head, blinking hard to un-cross his vision and after he found Hiccup, Valka, Eret… all staring.

“You're getting good at that.” Hiccup observed.

“I… beg to differ. Even Tyrian can leave me seeing double.” he sighed.

“That does take _years_ of practice to overcome. Just… be careful.” Valka cautioned.

“I'll limit the gossip. I've no intention of falling out of the saddle.” he waved them off.

So, they flew.

And flew.

And flew.

They took a few breaks to rest, Hiccup made more notes for his map, and Datura led them onward. Occasionally she had to swerve and race after the invisible lines she tracked, but she never faltered. Noon passed and well into the afternoon, nearly evening, they had to consider stopping for the night. They knew it couldn't be _too_ much farther, but they didn't want to face this mysterious island unprepared. He called to Datura, **question** then **near** or **far?**

Her answer made even Hiccup and Valka flinch.

 **NEAR!**

“Wow, she _does_ pack a punch.” Hiccup groaned, kneading his temple.

Cassian nodded mutely, breathing slow through his nose as a wave of nausea hit. Toothless _and_ Cloudjumper cautioned Datura a little more sternly and she mewled a soft apology.

“We’ll give it another hour then. Sound good Bud?” Hiccup patted the Fury’s neck.

Toothless hummed, almost like he was trying to hide his own eagerness.

Eret swooped in closer, “Are you alright?”

“It’ll pass.” he said weakly, “Just ill.”

It didn't take _half_ an hour.

Skullcrusher smelled it long before the island broke the horizon, thrilling to alert them all. And when the island made itself known, there was _no_ doubt they were in the right place. It rose and _kept_ rising, like a mountain had been cut from the earth with a knife and dropped in the sea. Dragons leapt from the waves, some familiar and others entirely new, as more and more filled the air around them. The setting sun turned the cliffs to copper and bronze as they climbed higher, past tiered plateaus, cascading waterfalls, still pools, lush grass, mighty trees- and _dragons,_ everywhere. There was the expected mix of Nadders, Nightmares, Gronckles and other Berkian breeds, but _others_ lurked, fleeting in the depths of the forest. Cassian could swear he saw more Windwolves, and a rainbow-winged Vibrantium, but there was no hint yet of what they had _hoped_ to see. Not yet _._ They were only on the fringes and the island was _huge_. Datura forged ahead, inland, crying desperately and he urged Tyrian to follow.

“Datura, wait!” he shouted.

But she did not listen, and above the wind he heard something else-

A sharp, piercing _shriek,_ and a wall of **malice** hammered so hard it nearly struck him blind. Tyrian wobbled and dove towards a broad plateau as Toothless roared in turn. The Nadder landed, stooping to let him down and he flopped weakly into the grass, pushing his helm off in a desperate search for air. Skullcrusher hit the ground hard and- oh thank God, _Eret._ He might've seen Cloudjumper and Datura join them but-

Plasma blasts rattled the sky, scattering the other dragons in the area and they all looked up. Toothless and another Night Fury almost _twice_ his size circled the plateau, shrieking a challenge back and forth until Toothless dropped, landing before his flock and calling them closer. They formed a ring around their riders, wings spread wide against the dragons around and above them, quietly defiant.

“Cass, talk to me.” Eret scooped him up, patting his cheek.

“‘M okay, ‘s too loud.” he wheezed, trying to breathe, _focus_.

The titanic Fury landed, shaking the ground with it's weight and it _snarled,_ so much **anger** rolling off it in waves. It left him disoriented, weak-

“Help me up, we- we have to show it we don't mean any harm.”

He kicked at the ground, trying to get his feet under him until Eret hauled him up with an arm under his shoulders. Datura _cowered_ behind Toothless and Cloudjumper, shaking, pupils pinned tight with terror and **rage** filled him with clarity. He scrambled to the wall of wings, forcing his way through and throwing **anger** and **dissent** and **injustice** back in the Fury’s face. _That_ caught it cleanly by surprise and Cassian staggered, but pressed on. He sent everything; memories of Berk, their dragons, the **love** that they had-

He stumbled again, and the tide rose against him, old **pain** and **loss** and **hate.** He- he tried once more, how **happy** Toothless and Datura were to come, **hope,** **belief-**

 **DISSENT.**

Cassian’s legs gave out, and he was unconscious before his knees hit the ground.

***

Cassian left the ring and didn't hear anyone calling to him, not Tyrian, not Nightshade, not _him._ Cassian stumbled once, he rushed to follow, twice, he shoved Skullcrusher’s wing away, then he collapsed and Eret saw _red_. The Fury stalked forward, jaws gaping as it snarled and Datura _screamed._ He didn't think. Those teeth were closing in on Cass and he _acted,_ hauling back a fist and slamming it square across the dragon’s snout. It reared back in shock and he he took the chance to throw himself over Cassian’s prone body, cradling him close as his pulse roared in his ears. Cass was bleeding from the nose, his eyes rolled under fluttering lids and he groaned, _alive._ Eret nearly sobbed in relief when the Fury growled, _right in his ear._ He turned slow and stared right into those huge eyes, unblinking and fearless and _furious._

“Would you _shut UP?!”_ he snapped, voice ripping from the depths of his chest.

The Fury snorted in disbelief, rising up on it's haunches to stare him down.

“Yeah yeah you're _big.”_ he snarked, “And you're scaring Datura so stop. _NOW.”_

Behind him the Light Fury’s cry blossomed into a tiny roar and she was suddenly _there,_ hissing and spitting, forcing the bewildered Fury back one step, then two. Cassian whimpered, shifting in his arms and he forgot the Fury entirely.

“Cass, _Cass_ come on, come back to me…” he begged, stroking his brow, cheeks…

One eye cracked open, hideously bloodshot when it finally trained on his face.

“That's it, come on, almost there.”

Bit by bit, Cassian clawed back into the waking world and he was obviously in pain, _keening_ with it.

“Eret?” he croaked wetly, almost choking on blood.

“Yeah, I'm here.” he sniffed, “Why would you do that? Gods you know what happens- Oh would you _back off?”_

The Fury kept creeping closer, sniffing and staring until he took another swing at it's nose. It looked to Toothless of all things, almost affronted and incredulous, but he looked back just as baffled. _All_ the dragons seemed to be calming down, but Eret wasn't taking any chances. He scooped Cassian off the ground and returned to Tyrian, the others, but Datura remained. She stood up on her back legs, nose to nose with the Fury as they sniffed… and the Fury let out an alarmed warble. It turned, howling long and low into the depths of the island and hundreds of voices answered.

“What’s going on?” he whispered to Hiccup.

“She knows Datura, and called… someone?” Hiccup grimaced, covering his ears.

Valka pulled him further back, “Here, set him down…”

Reluctantly, he followed, lowering Cassian gently to lean against Tyrian’s flank. The bleeding from his nose had stopped, and sitting up let his airways drain. Valka passed over a waterskin and he helped Cassian take small sips, clean his face… But his _eyes,_ a vessel had burst in one of them and they were both bloodshot. What kind of strain was he under?

“No more of that dragonspeak for a bit. _Please.”_ he begged, stroking Cassian’s face with trembling hands.

Cass nodded weakly, leaning into his touch. Tyrian and Nightshade whined, and he barely had the strength to raise a hand to offer a reassuring pat.

“It's okay, I- I’ll be okay.” he rasped.

Their dragons rumbled a warning and Eret looked, heart dropping. The Fury loomed large, cold eyes roving over them all and stopping on Toothless. She sniffed long and deep, then _staggered_ back, slumping in shock. She keened _,_ an old wounded sound, suddenly so vulnerable _._ Hiccup lurched out of the saddle, eyes screwed shut against the dragon voices and Valka pulled him away. But Toothless stood firm, with a defiant wrinkle in his nose and glare creasing his eyes.

“She’s his _mother.”_ Hiccup dropped into the grass.

“What-”

Toothless snorted when the Fury moved closer, turning his back on her to sit firmly by Hiccup, _all_ the riders, and their flock crowded in close. Toothless glowered, jerking his head towards all of them, huffing with the faintest curl of his lips. The Fury looked on uncertainly, but after an admonishing growl she slowly bowed her head, sighing deeply. Eret looked to Hiccup, who looked to Valka, and they all bowed in turn. Toothless finally relaxed but his mother hooted in confusion-

And Datura scrambled on top of her head, diving off when she found her footing to join them. She crawled into Cassian’s lap, whining and nuzzling under his chin and Toothless warbled a dragon-laugh while his mother shook her head, staring in complete bafflement.

“Yes my pearl, all is well.” Cassian assured her.

Eret joined in lavishing her with affection, until her auricles perked sharply and her eyes opened wide. They could hear the next dragon-cry, deeper but still familiar and _two_ Light Furies landed behind their Alpha, peeking around her wings.

“Oh… oh they're _beautiful.”_ Cassian said weakly.

“You read my mind luv.” he agreed.

The smaller of the two was brighter, shimmering purple and blue and green, and the ruffling of it's fringes and frills were more intricate. The larger, perhaps Datura’s mother, was the same rose and cream and both had those full-golden eyes. They crept forward together and Datura cried, small and broken, sprinting to hurl herself at her mother. The Furies fell together, rolling and piling and _five more_ fledgelings Datura’s size materialized out of the grass. They were equally bright, gold and green and blue and purple, each one distinct. Cassian shifted beside him, trying to stand.

“No, absolutely _not._ You are resting, right here, and I'll _sit on you_ if I have to.”

Eret grappled him back over his lap and held him firmly there, ignoring all protest. His heart still thundered _,_ surely Cassian could feel it? He'd fallen so hard, so fast, what had that Fury done to him? But the Light Furies settled in a pile with Datura firmly in the middle, thrumming so deep he could feel it in his chest and their Alpha watched, fondness creasing her eyes. But that dragonspeak must've been going on, because every Fury suddenly turned to look at _them,_ auricles flicking in shock. They stared, unblinking, and he looked to Valka.

“Anything to be concerned about?” he asked slowly.

She shook her head, “She's just telling her story, there's _quite_ a bit of praise.”

The Fury-pile unfurled and the parents corralled their children under their wings as they studied, _appraised,_ heads bobbing like curious owls. Datura whined in exasperation, throwing her shoulder against her father’s leg, trying to push him closer. Tyrian, Toothless, even Nightshade crooned their encouragement and the Fury pack inched forward. Valka and Hiccup slowly sat beside Toothless and the fledgelings broke cover, following Datura’s lead to swarm them. She nearly knocked Cassian flat, but he caught his fiance under the shoulders and she tumbled off, but wiggled back around to paw at the wings on Cassian’s back.

“Not today, I'm sorry my pearl. I can barely see straight.” Cass patted her, “Maybe tomorrow.”

Eret chuckled, and held out a hand to the nearest fledgelings, one indigo-blue and the other green-gold, almost flushing _ruby_ in spots.

“You could almost be Skullcrusher’s little brother.” he teased.

The little Furies chirped, shoving each other out of the way to sniff and lick as his fingers, moving closer with growing confidence. The other three flocked around Hiccup, Valka and Toothless, while their parents watched. Now that he looked… Datura was a good bit bigger than her siblings, in length and bulk. Were the rest male? Or… were they not getting enough to eat? Huge as this island was, there couldn't be anything to hunt up this high, and they didn't have vikings to fish for them. They must all be fending for themselves…

Other dragons were gathering now, familiar and not as he scanned the trees. On the far side of the plain, up on another plateau, a shimmer in the fading light caught his eye, swaying as it moved. A bronze _Rumblehorn_ peered down, there was no mistaking it. He leaned over as far as he could and swatted Skullcrusher’s leg.

“Hey- oh you can be mad at me _later,_ up there!” he pointed quickly.

Skullcrusher squinted, lifting his nose to the breeze as he took a few steps forward. The bronze Rumblehorn fluttered down and another, silver-blue, followed then another, _another,_ until a herd of seven- or maybe eight? gathered together as Crush ambled through the grass.

“Cass, come on you gotta see this-” he tugged on Cassian’s arm.

“I thought I was supposed to be _resting.”_ he snarked.

He sat up straight anyway after pushing Datura off and gasped. Even this far away they could hear the Rumblehorns buzzing and he didn't need to speak dragon to see that Crush was over the moon. The island herd were all more subtle, earth colors with smaller horns and sleeker bodies… Were they just a little different, or were they all _female?_

He whistled low, startling the young Furies.

“Crush is gonna be a _busy_ man.” he chuckled.

“Don't be gross.” Cassian tugged his ear.

It seemed like word of their arrival was _really_ spreading now. A whole army of Stormcutters coasted by and dozens, _dozens_ more Light _and_ Night Furies filtered out of the trees. Hiccup and Valka wept silently, and he sniffled a few times himself but Cassian… he had that _look_ about him. It was Foxglove all over again.

“It'll be okay Cass. We’ll figure it out.” he murmured, kissing his brow.

They found a good spot to set up camp in a hollow along the cliffs, warm and dry with plenty of soft grass around the edges. After unloading their packs they set their dragons loose to explore in the last dregs of light. He helped Cassian out of his breastplate as Valka built up a fire and Hiccup… _He_ stared out at the mingling Furies, especially Toothless, proudly showing off his tail. Looks like he'd be having this conversation _twice,_ but this should be easy. Hiccup had a good head on his shoulders after all. Once he was sure Cass wasn’t going anywhere, he made his move.

“Come on you.” he tapped Hiccup’s arm, “Let’s walk it out.”

The chief started to protest, but followed with a resigned sigh. Their smaller plateau wound along the cliff in a narrowing path until it faced the sea, and the final ruby sliver of sun vanished as they spotted it. It was stunning, but that's not why they were here.

“You know better than anyone he’ll come home. This place is close enough for _anyone_ to visit when they want, either way.” he said, “And with all the room we’ve freed up, what’s to stop us from inviting a few over on the way back?”

Hiccup sighed hard through his nose, “I know. But they've been _this close_ this whole time, all these years… I thought Toothless was the only one.”

“You're only one man Hiccup, with one dragon. Even over _years_ no one could expect you to find every last island. But we’re here _now_ and that's what matters.”

Hiccup nodded slowly, brow furrowing as he looked out at the Raincutters and Windgnashers and Thunderclaws drifting by.

“Have you noticed…” he thought aloud, “The dragons here are a little _thin?”_

“Yeah, I have. Datura probably has 20 pounds on the next biggest kit.” he frowned, “They don't have any people or Bewilderbeasts fishing for them, and there's no game up here. As protected as this island is, dragons may have come here from all over to escape the trappers so now there are _too_ many, same as Berk.”

“We can try to tell them that it's safe to spread out again. Obviously they can't all come back to Berk but… there are a few big islands on the way we could show them.” Hiccup shrugged.

“Maybe a nice _lady_ Fury will follow Toothless home.” he teased, elbowing Hiccup’s side.

“Yeah… wouldn't _that_ be something.”

***

He slept hard and woke buried under a pile of Light Furies, warm and well-rested. His eyes ached something fierce, but there was nothing to be done about that. With so many little bodies around he could only roll half on his side, looking out over the island and on the fringes of the plateau, Datura’s parents watched them all. They were still a _little_ wary, but that was fair. Tentatively, he sent them both something like **hello,** soft as a whisper and they both jolted, auricles flaring wide. Her mother crept closer, sniffing the ground until she could sit just out of reach. Her voice curled gently around the tips of his ears, **question** followed by the image of Datura with him but… not _why, how_ she came to be there. He frowned, **sorrow** staining the image of a snare, then a cage on a boat, then _their_ arrival and their proper meeting in the nursery, full of **joy** and **compassion** and **love**. He ended with the memory, the very idea of trappers, overpowered by them, completely **gone** and **absent.** The Fury stared in awe, **gone** and **question** came sweetened with **hope**. He nodded, showing her bits and pieces of their fight, then islands and open sea enveloped in **safety,** and Berk itself, covered in humans and dragons living side by side-

He paused. There should be a cave here, shouldn't there?

He posed **question** in turn, against the strange light and mushrooms of their hot spring, followed by **here** and **question** again. She answered with **affirmation,** showing an entrance in the very center of the island but… there was also the worrying sense of **not enough.** Of what, he wasn't sure, but it felt so all-encompassing she must mean everything. Food, space, shelter… She looked to the hatchlings covering him and Eret, her **worry** and **sorrow** pricking at his eyes. The others were thinner, _smaller_ than Datura. His heart ached as he pet the closest of them, the same blue-green as the sea back home… Their father slunk up beside his mate, nuzzling her sweetly. Good, with them both here he could make an offer. To both Furies he showed their cave, resonating with **emptiness** save for the Fireworms, and **warmth,** acknowledging it was not large but it could be _theirs_ and there was plenty of room for them in Berk. **Hope** welled between them, but they retreated to talk between themselves and silence fell around him.

Mostly _._ His ears rang, just a little. But if that was all that lingered from a conversation that long, he was grateful. A few of the fledgelings stirred and one yawned right in his ear, very nearly giving him a good nip as it's jaws stuttered shut. That same Fury wrapped it's paws around his neck and nuzzled deeper into his hair, purring faintly. He must've been broadcasting his overwhelming **affection** by accident, because twin **questions** brushed across his cheek. **Curiosity** came, then himself with the dragons, _all_ of them, followed by a vague sense of **not-kin,** then **love** and **question** at once. It was… confusing. Were they asking why he cared, without any blood relation? Maybe that was something a little more human, no wonder it seemed strange. But how to explain? He settled on the idea of **love** as a pool, filling him to overflowing for kin and not-kin, humans and dragons, all the **same.** The father protested, humans and dragons overwhelmed by **difference** and he… **agreed**. But, **different** was not **bad,** and **different** could still be **equal,** and he loved them _like_ kin, _like_ children. That only drew more **questions.** How, how could he _explain?_ He tried, dragons with their eggs, humans with babies, but he showed himself with empty arms, stained with a certain, sure **finality,** but caring for dragons filled the hole in his heart.

**...question.**

He looked to Eret, taking his hand where it was pinned under another Fury. **Mate,** he thought, **forever.** But that meant no _human_ children. He didn't mean for them to feel the pang of **loss** that burned bitter and deep as he screwed his eyes shut. **Sympathy** and **apology** stroked his cheek, through his hair, settling like a blanket around him and a tongue lapped at the tear that ran across his nose. He opened one eye and found Datura before him and she gently butted her brow into his. **Love,** she pushed to him, **kin.** She turned to her parents, posing **question, fly** and **home**. But, not _this_ home, _Berk._ Her parents looked to each other, and **affirmation** slowly traced them both. Datura squealed, tackling her father first, then her mother and Cassian wept.

They all woke slowly, swaddled in still-sleepy Light Furies as they ate, and Hiccup agreed they would explore today and return tomorrow. Datura was already making demands, shoving and tugging his breastplate over, then his boots, helm… Eret chuckled, ruffling her flaps and frills as she passed.

“I _did_ promise her.” Cassian sighed, rising to stretch out.

“Are- you feeling alright?” Eret asked more quietly.

“Sore, but better. I won't go wild, I promise. And, there are caves here we could explore.” he stepped into his boots, “We could try to look for Hotburples too.”

“I'm sure they’ll be very stationary.” Valka chuckled.

“And I'm sure I don't need to say it, but try to keep at polite distances, don't step on any toes, all that. These are still _wild_ dragons.” Hiccup stressed.

They nodded and Eret helped settle the breastplate over his shoulders. The Light Furies and even a few of the Night Furies watched with growing curiosity, spurred on by Datura’s eager prancing. He fastened the straps, donned his bracers and slipped on his helm, while Eret called up Skullcrusher and Tyrian. In theory he _could_ jump from the cliffs, but that was not a risk he was willing to take. Today. Nightshade was still asleep, so he didn’t try to wake her as they mounted up and Datura ordered her audience to follow, out past the cliffs to open sky.The day was bright and calm, _perfect_ for flying. He gathered his feet under him, readied the flaps, and with a thought Tyian rolled and he fell. 

The tower dragons hooted in alarm then, and again when his wings opened and he _flew._

Datura and Tyrian fell in beside him, radiating **joy** and **pride** while the Furies chattered in confusion. A few swooped by for a closer look, mostly Datura’s siblings and parents, but one of the Nights too. This one was… different from Toothless, larger, sleeker, with a certain falcon-sharpness to it's wings, fins, auricles… perhaps a female? He hadn’t paid much attention to Toothless’s-

A great shadow fell over them all and much of their audience scattered, but he couldn't turn to see _._ The shadow panned to the left, far enough that he could _just_ glimpse her massive wings, as big as _Cloudjumper’s._ She watched, cool and calm and silent, but he could feel the faintest ripple of **curiosity** around her. He rode the currents, tilted through cross-winds, banked around the great towering island until he had lost too much height and joined Tyrian again. But before they could climb for another round, the Alpha **called** to him, barely a whisper but still verging on a command. He looked to Eret and waved for him to follow as the Alpha banked away, to a broad and treeless plateau. Datura followed of course, and her family came behind her as they all landed and settled in the pillowy moss. He slowly removed his helm and hung it off the saddle, dismounting when the Alpha beckoned him still closer.

“Cass, wait-” Eret hissed, lunging for his hand.

“Eret, it's okay. She doesn't mean any harm,” he laced their fingers together.

They sat by the Fury’s enormous paws, as big as a _barrel_ and Datura sprawled over both their laps, looking defiantly upwards. The Fury just snorted in amusement, but turned to him and **apology** rolled over his head, soft as a breeze, not even enough to tickle. He responded in kind with **acceptance,** but also **understanding** her desire to protect. She went quiet for a moment before **question** came, then the image of Berk and a sense of **safety.** It… would be best to answer honestly. It was **less safe** before, but after flickers of memory of the raids and the final battle, that feeling of **safety** spread over Berk, beyond, all the way **here** with absolute **confidence** and **truth**. He showed Berk as it had been, **crowded** and tinged with **not-enough** , but how that it was **safe** , half the dragons left to spread far and wide again. The Alpha sighed and **relief** lapped around his feet. Silence settled again and he just… looked at her. She had that same _sharpness_ as that other Fury, so that must indeed be the difference between them. Looks like Toothless was in luck after all-

Wait, the _Hotburples._

He quickly extended a **question** again, sharing the thought of Grump and **here** after she **acknowledged**. She thought long and hard, finally answering with a memory of two Hotburples, one green and one rust-red, but also **unsure** , because they were… lazy? Sedentary? He wasn't quite sure about that last part, but his _thrill_ had her sending **question** in turn. Grump, Skullcrusher, Cloudjumper, Toothless… they were all **alone** on Berk, with **no kin** there and this was the first place they had ever seen more of their kind. The Alpha sighed, sad **understanding** twitching around her auricles. But if _she_ didn't know where they were…

“The Rumblehorns!” he blurted.

Eret and all the dragons stared at him.

“Care to fill me in luv?” Eret prodded.

“I was asking about Hotburples and she knows of two, but not where they are. I'll bet the Rumblehorns could help us track them down!” he explained in a rush.

Skullcrusher rumbled happily, nudging Eret’s arm.

“Don't see why not. And _you_ seem eager you giant beetle-” he scratched at Crush’s jaw.

“That silver lady was very keen on you.” Cassian teased.

Skullcrusher huffed, something like **embarrassment** rolling off him while the Alpha chortled, stretched, and rose to her feet. She dove off the cliff, sweeping up and away, back to the island proper for whatever it was that giant Furies did with their time. They shrugged, climbed back into the saddle and followed Crush’s nose back to the Rumblehorn herd. Now that he could see them properly, up close, he understood Skullcrusher’s excitement. They _were_ lovely in their own way, but they let Crush introduce them first. There was an undercurrent of **caution** around their bronze matron, so it was best to be… polite. The matron, and then the rest of the herd investigated Eret first, then him in turns, inhaling deeply and snuffling at their hands, hair, clothes… The last in the line was a stunning sky-blue, flashing green in spots and half the size of the others. He must be, well, a _he_ based on the color alone. But he had none of the slow wariness of his herd and thrust his snout right into Eret’s chest, almost knocking him flat.

 _“Careful_ little bug, you weigh a lot more than I do!” he laughed anyway, rich as honey.

 **Delight** and **acceptance** rippled through the herd, and Skullcrusher stepped in to share his memories of Grump, sight and scent alike, followed by **question**. The herd chattered amongst themselves for a moment then took to the skies, fanning out over the island with the order to **wait.**

“They want us to wait here, they'll do the hunting.” he explained after a sneeze.

“But-” Eret frowned, only a fraction, “You're alright? It hasn't been too much?”

He shook his head, “It was just a tickle, Skullcrusher did all the talking. It's been better today, even the Alpha. I think they learned what is too much.”

“Just… don't strain yourself, please.” Eret held him close, “That- yesterday, that was… I was so _scared.”_

“I'm sorry… But she was scaring Datura, I just- I didn't _think.”_

Eret snorted, a weak almost-laugh against his neck.

“Well, that shouldn't be a problem anymore…”

They sat down in the tall grass, leaning back against Skullcrusher’s side to bask in the sun. Dragons called all around, swooping by to study them, but a passing Stormcutter looped back around to land, hunkering down in the grass almost shyly. It was _stunning,_ cream and gold and blazing all the colors of a sunset along it's frills and wings and fins. But it's crest was notably different, each half splitting into two separate points with one tall spire right up the center flowing from it's nose-plates, and it's eyes… those were a peridot-green. Cassian grinned, extending a soft **hello** that had the Stormcutter shooting upright, blinking owlishly in surprise. But it quickly recovered, bashfully unfurling a **question** and he returned warm, soothing **affirmation**. It asked- something like **stranger-but-kin** and **where**. Cloudjumper? That was the only thing that made sense, he could only respond with **here** , but also **unsure**. It drooped, and he was quick to assure with **here** again, and even when they left for **home** they would not be **far**.

“It seems Cloudjumper has an _admirer.”_ he said for Eret’s sake.

“Well, that's _one_ down. And now that they know about us, it's just a matter of time for the rest of them.” Eret chuckled.

“Do you think this is a female?” he asked.

Eret shrugged, “No idea. Never seen one in person before Cloudy.”

“Aren't they your sigil?”

“Honestly? _No_ idea, it could just as easily be an owl. It's old, from well before my great-grandfather’s time so the exact design may have drifted a little… But, the _Storm_ cutter seems as good a crest as any for a sailor.”

Cassian hummed in agreement and watched the Stormcutter, _Sunset_ bed herself down in the grass with a mighty yawn. It was still early, there was no harm in waiting a bit longer… Especially for Grump, and Gobber.

***

He was still unsure about all this mindspeak business. It was _useful_ for sure but… was it worth all the pain, the risk? He hadn’t slept well, not when all he saw when he closed his eyes was the Fury’s jaws closing around-

A Rumblehorn hooted to alert her approach and he was glad for the distraction. The gold-bronze dragon landed and stalked closer, wary without her herd but Skullcrusher thrilled and that seemed to be enough. 

“She's found them, we can follow-” Cassian translated, but the dragon inched closer.

She peered at him, staring right into his eyes as she turned her head from side to side, pupils blowing round.

Cassian chuckled, “She likes your eyes. The color, I mean.”

“Well, how about that.” he smiled faintly, offering a hand to her.

“Might be because they’re _her_ colors.” Cass teased.

“Well, she still has excellent taste.”

They dusted themselves off and got back on their dragons, but the Stormcutter chirped and Cassian looked back. After a moment she got to her feet and prepared to follow.

“She's a little shy _.”_ he explained, eyes sparkling with his smile.

He almost wondered if his heart would ever stop _soaring_ over that. The Rumblehorn snorted, beckoning for them to follow, up and higher, aiming for the mountains that ringed the island. The whole center was like a valley, sloping down to a great chain of lakes cradled by the plateaus and fed by the thousands of waterfalls. It seemed to go on forever, a _paradise…_ that trappers nearly spoiled without ever setting foot on it. But he- _they_ could fix that now.

At the roots of the mountains proper, they found a tunnel. A _Hotburple_ sized tunnel. Well, this was going to be interesting.

“So, anybody home?” he asked, looking to Cassian.

He frowned, _“_ Yes _,_ but… I think they’re asleep.”

“Well, they _are_ Hotburples.” Eret shook his head, “Let's be careful anyway.”

He dropped to the ground and crouched just off to the side of the entrance. It was too deep and dark to see, but he could _hear_ familiar snoring just fine. On a hunch, he whistled sharply. The sound echoed, and twin grunts of surprise followed. Claws and scales scraped over stone and two massive heads emerged from the gloom, blinking sleepily at him on one side and Cass on the other. The closest to him was rusty-red, the other quite a nice green, but they suddenly snapped to attention, looking to Cassian with uncharacteristic alertness. Must be doing his thing then.

“Their thoughts are very… slow.” he explained after a long moment.

But after another beat, they _bolted,_ tiny legs scrambling to get them out to a place they could spread their wings and then they were off _._ He stared as all their dragons did, and slowly looked to Cassian.

“What did you _say_ to them?”

“I mentioned Grump and they just- _demanded_ to know where Berk was!” Cass shook his head hard, “I tried to tell them to wait, but they just wouldn't hear it!”

“Gobber'll be in for one _hell_ of a surprise.” he huffed a weak laugh, “Now, are we looking for those caves or not?”

“Datura wanted to show us, but her family left to hunt.” Cassian stood and stretched, “We can explore more in the meantime.”

“True.”

So they took to the air once more, and the Rumblehorn went her own way. The Stormcutter still followed at a respectful distance, scanning the skies. She really _was_ keen on Cloudjumper, that was adorable. But… he hadn't seen Nightshade all morning, where could she have gone off to? He had just opened his mouth to ask when a black blur shot up from below, wedging beside Tyrian. Nightshade hissed and the Stormcutter shied away, but Tyrian and Cassian _both_ scolded her. They put themselves between the two ladies, urging Nightshade closer to Crush.

 _“_ Easy Shade. She's sweet on Cloudjumper, not _your_ man.” he said firmly.

The Sickle-Scale looked appropriately sheepish, warbling something that might've been an apology. Skullcrusher sampled the air as the wind shifted and chuffed, turning left, deeper into the mountains.

“He smells Toothless!” Cassian shouted.

It _would_ be a good idea to check in…

“Lead the way old boy.” he patted the dragon’s neck.

Skullcrusher snorted, winding them deeper into the roots of the mountains, to a valley like a deep grassy bowl. Toothless was there, Cloudjumper and the Alpha and… there was something half-covered, coiled in the turf-

His heart dropped. It was a skeleton. A _Fury_ skeleton, far bigger than Toothless but still smaller than the Alpha by a third. Everyone else kept a polite distance from the Furies, so that was where they landed, _quietly._ Toothless and the Alpha sat before the sunken skull, heads bowed, and he didn't need to speak dragon to see their sorrow. Hiccup and Valka… didn't seem to be doing well.

Wait.

He scrambled out of the saddle to Tyrian, catching Cassian when his grip failed on the pommel. He grimaced, shook his head, but found his balance.

“How bad is it?” he asked softly.

“Not- not good.” Cassian answered.

They stumbled closer, taking a seat on the scattered stones. Hiccup managed to lift his head and his eyes were swollen nearly shut, an angry bloodshot red. _Really_ not good.

“There was a storm, on another island...” Hiccup croaked, “They lost Toothless in the sea, he was swept away. They came here, his father- he didn't make it. His heart was _broken-”_

Oh no. Like dragon, like rider… and not unlike _him._

“Be right back, just gonna… Go make sure they're okay.” he muttered.

“Eret-”

“I'll be fine, I'm the only one who’s brain won't get scrambled. You just relax.” 

And that was just as much for Hiccup and Valka as Cassian. He approached slowly, the Alpha noticed for sure by the twitch of her auricles but she didn't protest. He stopped at Toothless’s side and he'd _never_ seen the Fury like this... eyes screwed shut, swaying as he keened low and broken. Hesitantly, gingerly, he patted the dragon’s neck. Toothless jumped at his touch, thrumming in confusion when he didn't find his rider.

“Yeah, just me. Sorry to butt in.”

Toothless sighed, offering something like a shrug and his mother watched out the corner of her eye.

“I know your pain, in a way.” he continued, “I lost my mother before I could even know her. It was a hole I couldn't fill, and I can't do that fancy memory-swap so… this is the best I have.”

He pulled the necklace over his head, holding the pendant out for- _both_ Furies to see, apparently, the Alpha was looking too.

“It wasn't your fault, either of you. The world is just too big sometimes, and things happen that we can't control. You were hardly a baby, same as I was. You couldn't fight the whole ocean and I couldn't fight a fever for my mother. And that’s… okay.”

He patted Toothless again and both dragons thrummed weakly.

“Now you know. You two can talk all about him, visit whenever you want. It's not the end, just… a new start.”

Toothless butted into his shoulder and his mother craned her neck to press her nose against his head, thumming deeper. He huffed a little laugh, scratching Toothless’s brow.

“So, think you're ever gonna get that big?” he teased lightly, “I'm sure he was a handsome lad.”

Both Furies arched their necks proudly, humming in agreement but sorrow still creased around their eyes. When Eret glanced back, the others seemed to be less.. Afflicted. He slipped the cord back over his head and tucked the pendant safely away, patting Toothless’s shoulder.

“Take your time, the day is still young.”

With that, he left the Furies to their vigil. Cassian looked a little disoriented still but… he wasn't bleeding again. That's what mattered. And Hiccup nodded once, in silent thanks. Valka had turned to watch the new Stormcutter introduce herself, still shy but Cloudjumper was keenly interested, and almost bashful too.

“They'll be okay.” he said to no one in particular, returning to Cassian’s side.

Cass nodded, leaning heavily against him with tears still shining on his cheeks. He drew Cassian closer, gently rubbing his shoulder and after a time, pressed a kiss to his brow. By nearly noon, the Furies returned and Toothless leaned hard on his mother, head sagging until Hiccup threw himself around the Fury’s neck. Toothless sighed deep and ragged, rising up on his back legs to grapple Hiccup closer.

“It'll be okay bud…” Hiccup sniffled, hugging tighter.

Cassian stole his hand, squeezing tight and he returned the pressure, massaging the back of his hand with his thumb. Slowly, they made their way back to the sky and out over the sea to scrounge up lunch. But there, Toothless took charge, rallying dozens of the dragons below the waves to gather a huge shoal of fish and drive it to the surface. At his command the sea-dragons scattered and he looked to his mother with a bright grin. Together, they hurled their fire into the thick of the shoal and a huge geyser of steam, seething water and fish erupted into the air and the dragons _feasted._ More dragons flocked down from Tower Island to take advantage of the bounty, and the Alpha looked to her son with pride _._ But there were still the Light Furies…

“Crush, grab a little extra!” he shouted.

The Rumblehorn skimmed the surface to pick off a few more fish and Tyrian shot by, doing the same. They returned to the plateaus together, mouths full and bellies bulging, and Skullcrusher sniffed the Fury pack out. They had gathered to wait around their campsite, and Tyrian proudly offered his catch to the fledgelings, preening when Nightshade thrummed, nuzzling under his jaw. Cute but… yeah it was still weird. The Furies fell on their still-wiggling meal, ravenous even after their hunt, but their parents held back. He could _see_ they were hungry, but they still put their children first. Heart panging, he took a few fish from Skullcrusher’s ample catch before he added them to the pile.

“There's plenty, you don't have to hold back this time.” he laid the fish at their feet.

The pair looked to each other, their children, and slowly ate their share.

“You won't have to worry about food ever again on Berk. We take care of our own, scales or no scales.” he smiled, reached out to the father-

And froze. They had never been touched, he couldn't just go petting whoever he wanted. The Fury hesitated, glancing at his children _swarming_ over Cassian and, hesitantly, dropped his chin into Eret’s open hand, blinking slowly.

“Thank you.” he murmured, skritching gently.

The Fury’s eyes fluttered shut and he leaned harder into Eret’s hands as he slowly dragged his nails down the dragon’s jaw, neck, shoulders, scratching in little circles.

“Yeah, never had a good scratch, have you?” he chuckled, “Aren't you _stunning,_ those colors…”

Skullcrusher snorted in dismay, scattering the fledgelings at his feet.

“More than _one_ dragon is allowed to be pretty Crush. Now, let's have a look at you…” he hummed, slipping around the Fury’s side.

He traced down the dragon’s wing, lifting the edge with a fleeting touch. They had thumb-claws there, unlike Toothless, but a similar shape and span, the same six ‘fingers’… but on the trailing edge, at the point of every finger, the membrane feathered like their frills. How strange, almost like an owl’s wing… Their scales were strange too, no bigger than a circled thumb and forefinger and _soft,_ almost flexible. They would make a damn fine vest, if they could gather enough. Maybe… _oh._ No, even better, their _wedding clothes._ With eight dragons, they'd be swimming in scales-

“Datura, _no!”_ Cassian squawked, trailing to deep laughter.

“Those two…” he rolled his eyes, “C’mon, be nice now kitten.”

He rose and shooed the little Fury away, sparing his fiance a further tongue bath and Tyrian-

Was fast asleep over his back, pinning him to the ground. Nightshade and Crush had settled for a nap too. It was going to be a long flight tomorrow, it was better to let them rest.

“Looks like that trip to the caves might have to wait a bit…” he sighed.

“Yes…” Cassian agreed, heaving out from under the Nadder, “We could always come back. But I think I'm done with my armor for the day, could you..?”

“Of course luv.”

Once that was set aside, the Fury parents nudged into their shoulders, looking at them expectantly.

“They're… offering to carry us.” Cassian said, almost breathless with awe.

“Well, I think _you'll_ have to ride with the gentleman, don't want to overburden him with all _this.”_ he gestured broadly to himself.

“I like all of ‘this’ just fine.” Cass purred in his ear, trailing fingers down his side.

He shivered, watching as Cass sauntered over to Datura’s father, slowly easing onto his shoulders. Her mother almost knocked him flat as she nudged him to do the same.

“Right, sorry…” he muttered, flushing pink.

She crouched for him and proved to be just as broad as Skullcrusher. He struggled to get a good grip without strangling the poor lady with his legs, or arms…

“Now, have mercy on me, I can only hold on so tight.” he patted her neck.

“Try to set your heels a little lower, you're pinching Lantana’s throat.” Cassian warned.

“Oh, sorr- you _named_ her already?”

“...yes.” he grumbled, “And this is Scarab.”

Eret chuckled, nearly slipping off Lantana’s back.

“And I'm sure all the _kittens_ will have names by nightfall.” he teased.

Cassian pouted, and both Furies seemed to roll their eyes before calling their children. Datura rallied them, following in a long train once their parents shot into the sky. And were they ever _fast._ He had to cling tight with his knees, crouching low over the dragon’s neck and they _might’ve_ passed Hiccup and the others on their way to the mountains. He couldn't be sure, everything was a smear of color. But they were heading deeper, more to the north and higher up in the mountain-crown. Scarab coasted along with his mate wingtip to wingtip, and both Furies sang sweetly to each other. And Cassian… oh, there was _no_ rival to that smile, the _light_ in his eyes, even as Datura pounced on his head. But he didn't have long to stare. Lantana thrilled a warning before they dove and he yelped as the world fell away, and shadows engulfed them.

But, not for long. That eerie light bloomed in the distance then surrounded them all, pulling out the hidden patterns in the dragon’s scales, each one unique. This cave was _nothing_ like the one on Berk. It went as far as they could see, twisting and warping into secret passages and fungus grottoes, _huge_ shelf mushrooms sprouted from the walls and made roosts for dragons. Could something of this scale be hiding under Berk? Scarab and Lantana wove deeper, skimming a wide lake, weaving back and forth with their wingtips slicing the surface, scattering tiny aquatic dragons. There were many more Furies down here, some lurking in the shadows or leering down at them, but many more than that hissed and snapped as they passed, guarding their little patches of cave floor. Zipplebacks, Whispering Deaths, Nightmares… no wonder the pack was so keen to leave.

The Furies took them all the way to their den, a mushroom-encrusted bowl with _crystal_ walls, deeply hidden, cozy, _impossible._ He couldn't tell what color the gems really were thanks to the alien light, but… they were just sitting down here, doing nothing… He slipped off Lantana’s back and Cassian joined him, taking his hand and squeezing tight.

“I bet even _you_ haven't seen anything like this.” he teased.

“No…” Cassian said breathlessly, running his hand along a crystal spar.

“We _do_ have some wedding gifts to make.” he said, feigning casuality.

“Are you suggesting we smash up their _den?”_ Cass snorted.

“Maybe we just look for some fallen nuggets, knock off some edges… It's not doing much down here.” he shrugged.

Cassian rolled his eyes, but took a seat to peer under the fluted mushrooms and into cracks while the fledgelings milled around them. The mushrooms made for a… _strange_ floor, the texture was springy and almost _fleshy_ as he sat at Cassian’s side. He didn't like it. But that one Fury, the little gold, green and ruby lad crawled right into his lap, yawned wide, and fell asleep. 

“Yeah, just pin me here lil Crush. Nowhere to be.” he chuckled, scratching it's brow.

 _“Now_ who’s naming them?” Cassian snarked.

“Hush, I'm being _sentimental.”_

So there they stayed for a time while the Furies slept off their meal, stuffing their pockets with fallen lumps of crystal. Maybe this could join their trading stock too, along with the dragon scales. Especially if they found more under Berk. It would all be light, easy to carry… They could offload the less-pretty stuff for quick coin, save the best for the most important purchases. Though they would have a little ‘restocking’ from their flock along the way, they couldn't spend without thought, plus they had to _carry_ everything home. They should try to do all their shopping at the very end of the trip, so the dragons didn't have to carry it all for weeks on end. Spices, fruits, that- that _fabric_ what had Cass called it?

“That stuff you were talking about…” he frowned, trying to remember, “I forget the name, that cloth.”

“You'll need to be more specific love.” Cassian chuckled.

“Some kind of fancy fabric you found in the markets, that you wanted to bring back?”

“Silk..? What about it?”

“Just thinking about that trip down south, how we’ll bring everything back.” he shrugged, “But, tell me about it. All that fancy stuff.”

Cassian scooted closer, dragging half the fledgelings with him.

“Silk comes from the far, far east, even with dragons you would have to chase the sunrise for _weeks_ and they've kept the secrets of it there for centuries. Its smoother than any cloth you've ever seen, and light as a whisper, cool and airy… But, expensive because of how far it has to come.” he explained, “And that is true for many luxuries. If we want to get the most for our efforts, we should try to sell the scales for proper coin, that way we won’t have to convince every last trader we want to do business with that they're valuable.”

“I was thinking the same thing. And we can save the pretty stuff for when we need more money at once. We can sort everything over the winter.” he said, drawing Cass closer.

“Actually, we might be better served tailoring our product to the _market._ Pretty scales to tailors, and the plain stuff to smiths and armorers. But, not just anywhere, it has to be at the _best_ shops in rich cities with coin to spare on a curiosity. And we’ll have to practice our salesmanship-” Cassian paused, “I… should teach you some Arabic between now and then. Most in al-Andalus speak it, and if we were to become separated you could be in danger, just by not understanding. It is tedious, but no the worst language to learn. They do speak Norse through Angleland, and a few spots in northern Europa. That's how I learned.”

“I did wonder about that.” he chuckled, “But, that is a good idea. We’ll have plenty of time for all that, and you can teach me all the good curses.”

Cassian snorted, “Ever the _sailor.”_

“Now and forever! No dragon can change that.” he laughed, “So, what else?”

“Well, there are all sorts of fruits in the Al-Andalus markets. Dates, grapes, pomegranates… the _fresh_ fruits wouldn't survive the trip home, but dried ones would easily. Spices too, and those I can't even _describe_ to you. You'll have to see-”

“For myself?” he finished, “Like horses and sharks?”

“Yes. _S_ _till_ not telling.” Cassian tugged his ear, “But we can bring glass jars to carry any food, it could go moldy or stale if it isn't properly sealed. The markets peak in autumn, and run through the winter since no one wants to be out in that heat. We could explore, go where we please… and return in the spring.”

There was that _thinking_ look again. He slipped an arm around Cassian’s waist.

“Your family?” he asked softly.

Cassian nodded against his shoulder.

“I don't know how to face them. After all this time…” he sighed shakily, “Will they hate me? Will they even care?”

“I don't know.” Eret had to admit, “And we won't know until we get there. But… now it's my turn. I'm here, whenever you need me.”

Cassian sniffled, burying his face in his neck, murmuring, “I love you.”

“As I love you.” he swore in turn, heart full to bursting.

The Furies stared that long, _knowing_ stare, unblinking and unnerving.

“Uh, not to spoil the mood but… why are they staring like that?” he whispered.

Cassian hummed, and the Furies looked to him briefly.

“They're just… curious. They've never seen humans… _together_ before us, our feelings- _taste?_ No, _resonate_ strangely. Here in particular, something about the crystals? No, just here and now, _us-”_ he blinked, “They can almost hear _you_ somehow, they couldn't before.”

He didn't feel any different thought, with this many dragons he _should_ if he could do that dragonspeak all of a sudden, right? Could they really hear him? Lantana shook her head with a bewildered snort and Scarab squinted minutely.

“They _can_ but…” Cassian frowned, “Its like a whisper, far away. Maybe it _is_ the crystals, or just the isolation. We’re probably the first humans to ever come down here…”

“Well, I don't hear anything back. It must only work one way.” he mused.

“They're asking- I think it's something like _why_ you like that particular baby so much. You can just speak, they'll understand.” Cassian translated.

At least Cass seemed just as surprised as he was. And… there was no _reason_ , not really.

“I don't know, I just think he's neat.” he shrugged, “And, he has a touch of Skullcrusher’s colors, so maybe I'm just a bit biased. They're _all_ sweet as honey.”

Lantana and Scarab thrummed, eyes slowly squinting. A _good_ sign he hoped.

***

Tyrian and Skullcrusher found them eventually, blinding-bright in their secret colors. Cassian looked to the Furies piled on their mushroom cushions and sighed. They should sleep while they still could, tomorrow would be hard for the little ones. He left Lantana with instructions to meet them at dawn to leave for Berk, before leaving themselves. The Hotburples were sorted, Cloudjumper had a lady-friend, Toothless had a whole new world of opportunities with other Night Furies… that just left the Rumblehorns. There was still some time for that. The Alpha also seemed keen on thinning the population of her island, maybe they could help her with that. There were plenty of islands along the way and they could introduce her to Berk…

In the proper sky, the sun was on it's way down, about dinnertime. His stomach growled and Tyrian warbled a dragon-laugh, and _he_ poked the Nadder between the shoulders. Cloudjumper and Sunset wheeled and spun high above the island, higher and higher until they dove together in a delicate dance. Looks like they might see baby Stormcutters after all. And… some sort of strange Sickle-Nadder hybrid, if such a thing was possible. Berk would be _crawling_ with babies soon, as it should be.

Valka sat with Nightshade at their camp, both watching the Stormcutters above until they arrived. Tyrian watched too as Cassian dismounted, and chirped sweetly to his lady-love, fluttering his wings in invitation. She sighed, **affection** rippling around her as she lurched to her feet and followed him into the sky. Skullcrusher snorted, settling into the grass.

“Not a romantic _bone_ in your body, is there?” Eret laughed.

“Rumblehorns aren't like other dragons Eret.” Valka said, almost scolding, “Females live in herds, and males go off on their own once they can fend for themselves. They might find a herd to mate with in the right season, but they’ll go on their way again and any sons will follow in time.”

Cassian hummed, “So, like elephants.”

“Like _what?”_ Eret squinted.

“Not telling!”

“You aren't going to _live_ long enough to see Europa at this rate.” Eret pouted.

He caught Valka and Skullcrusher sharing a long-suffering look.

Hiccup returned with more firewood and they all settled down to rest while their dragons played. Another Night Fury lingered in the distance, one of the falcon-sharp ones, staring at them all but especially Toothless. She was wary, but he would let her handle things at her own pace. If she had questions, he would answer, same as for Sunset.

“So, tomorrow we go home.” Hiccup sighed, “I've already talked with Mom-Fury. We’ll help move some of the islanders out through the archipelago, she’ll come see Berk, then go back. A few of the dragons can stay with us, but _only_ a few. We can't let Berk get so swarmed again. But… I don't think that'll be a problem.”

“Well, there are _already_ two Hotburples on the way, sorry about that.” Eret chuckled.

“I didn't know they could _move_ so fast.” he added.

“How about that… We might need to expand the smithy again.” Hiccup shook his head fondly.

“Maybe add a _pen_ for whenever Dad visits, Gobber’ll appreciate that- Ow!”

Cassian swatted his arm, and Eret pouted.

“Don't be _crude._ Besides…” he added more quietly, _“What if?_ It's not like _we_ got along right away.”

“We did by the end of the night.”

“You almost _throttled_ me the second I untied your hands.” he stared from under pointedly arched brows.

Eret flushed, “Uh, right… Sorry ‘bout that.”

“It's _fine._ What I mean is…” he sighed, “What if? Maybe this is his chance, after all this time. It's not like Berk gets many visitors. _If_ something happens…”

He shrugged under Eret’s arm.

“Who knows… He was probably just loopy from the fever. I never knew him to swoon over _anyone,_ but… it's not like I was paying much attention. I’d rather not think about it, it's too _weird.”_ he grimaced.

“I understand. That's a pretty significant change…” Cassian granted.

“If something happens, it happens. I won't interfere either way.”

He nodded against Eret’s neck, sighing low as his eyes slipped shut.

They managed to sleep without a covering of Furies and woke at first light. When Cassian rose, he found the plateau beneath theirs crowded with dragons. The Rumblehorn herd, Datura and her family, Sunset and half a dozen other Stormcutters, the Alpha and another _dozen_ Night Furies… all ready to come see Berk. Well, maybe the Rumblehorns were just here to say goodbye, either way they were here. Tyrian still slept, awkwardly flopped over Nightshade and Skullcrusher kept a wing draped over both. The pang of affection that squeezed around his heart must've been some sort of signal, because young Light Furies swarmed them all, rousing the other riders from their sleep. Little Crush pounced right on Eret’s stomach, thankfully avoiding his ribs, shocking him upright with a strangled yelp and Cassian giggled weakly.

“Well, _you_ named him!” he managed to say.

 _“This_ isn't what I had in mind when I did.” Eret groaned, scrubbing his face.

“He's attached _,_ there's no shaking him now.” Valka teased.

“He can ride with Crush-senior if he gets tired on the way. Alright, lemme up little bug, I'm _awake-_ ” Eret shooed the little dragon off.

The Alpha roused too and summoned all the dragons nearby for food. With Toothless’s trick they would have everyone fed in no time at all, and they could get themselves ready. They ate, freshened up, packed, and by the time Eret helped buckled on his breastplate they came streaming back. Only theirs landed while the Alpha led the rest on a long circuit of the island, **calling** out to the masses in every corner of every plateau. It was a gentle order, for those that wished to follow for more **space** and **plenty**. The island shook with the force of wings, it seemed many were keen on the offer. They quickly stashed their packs and followed Toothless to join the front of the flock, they had to lead after all. And it was a long way home.

Hiccup mostly took charge of the relocation, not that they had to do much since the dragons peeled off on their own, island by island as they passed. But the visitors stayed close, even the _Rumblehorns,_ as the entourage dwindled. They rested where they could, tracking those invisible lines home until Berk was finally _there_ on the horizon. They cheered, but the Tower Island guests shivered with apprehension. He threw out a pulse of **assurance, home, safe,** casting the net so wide his head spun. But, they listened, enough to follow Toothless around and over the village. Shouts and cheers of joy, awe, _disbelief_ rose all around them, and like frost in the sun, all fear was gone. They led the flock to land one by one along the open cliffs, where there was a comfortable space between them and anything human to observe, smell-

Raucous calls broke the stillness as Stormfly, Andarax, Crucible and Foxglove bounded over the rooftops, to them. Cassian toppled out of the saddle, sprinting to meet her halfway and falling to his knees to catch the little Sickle-Scale against his chest. She knocked him flat anyway of course, purring and keening and the one thought that rang clear struck him dumb.

**Father.**

He trembled, pulling her closer and burying his face in her neck as a sob caught in his throat. **Daughter,** he could barely think straight, **child-mine, forever, love,** so much **love…** He could almost hear other voices, but that didn't matter. **My daughter-**

“Cass?”

A touch, a hand curling under his neck broke the spell. He sniffled, a frankly appalling sound, and let Eret prop him up, coaxing Foxglove into his lap. The Light Furies and Alpha had crowded close and he couldn't even begin to pick apart what they were thinking. 

“What was _that_ all about?” Eret asked, “They all just looked at you funny.”

“Foxglove, she-” he stumbled on a hiccuping sob, “She called me _father.”_

“Wh-”

Foxglove clawed at Eret’s vest, pulling him closer to nuzzle in turn and it came again: **Father.** He sobbed, even as Eret held him close and Foxglove crammed herself between them.

Cassian got himself under control eventually, and when he cracked his eyes open he found most of the crowd and dragons had scattered. But the Light Furies remained, Crucible, Andarax, Tyrian, the Alpha, Nightshade and Skullcrusher too, gathered around them, watching. Datura curled round and round them, purring sweetly, **sister** and **kin** rolling along with her. The Alpha, Lantana, Scarab, they radiated **joy,** soul-deep…

“...she really thinks that?” Eret murmured.

He nodded, “You too. _We’re_ all she knows, we raised her. It's only natural.”

Foxglove chirped, blinking sleepily. The sun _was_ nearly down, how long had they been sitting here? They needed to show the Light clan their new home, all of Berk-

“How about we turn in for the night?” Eret wiped his cheeks dry, “Datura can get everybody sorted, and Toothless. We have all day tomorrow.”

He nodded, reluctantly standing with some help as his legs still trembled. But as they walked, the whole flock followed, purely **curious.** Luckily, Datura and Nightshade did the explaining, he didn't have the energy. Foxglove saw him as no less than _her father._ Eret too. Who cared if she was a dragon, even this young she was no less intelligent than a human child, she decided this on her _own._ Home was such a welcome sight, he could have started crying all over again. They relieved Tyrian and Skullcrusher of their packs and saddles and shooed them off, but Foxglove stayed. She followed them inside, curling up before the hearth as they started a fire, undressed, washed, changed… all the while she _purred._ Cassian stole Eret’s hand to return his ring to it's rightful place, and Eret did the same in turn. He had missed the solid weight of silver, even for just a day or two. He turned into Eret’s side, sighing deeply.

“So…” Eret said, stroking his back, “She thinks we're her parents.”

“Are we not? She may be a foundling, but did we not nurse her back to health, feed her, raise her? She is as _aware_ as we are, with the same soul and she chose to call us that.” he sniffled again, “I- I could never give you a child. This may be _different_ but… is it any less?”

Eret sighed, and kissed his brow. “I… I don't know what to say. It's still a bit of a shock.”

“I understand.” he said softly.

They stayed there a time, warming themselves by the fire until their stomachs rumbled.

“I'll go get us some dinner. You just relax.” Eret parted with another kiss.

Cassian sat on the rug by the hearth and coaxed Foxglove’s head into his lap. She thrummed, raspy and slow, and he answered her chime of **love** with a wash of **adoration** and **gratitude** and **affection** that left his heart aching.


	20. Chapter 20

Eret didn't know what to do. 

Cassian wanted this one, _impossible_ thing so badly it hurt, he wasn't blind. And… he was in the way, in a manner of speaking. He couldn't just _magic_ a child out of nothing, and he wasn’t going to get himself thrown off a cliff for suggesting some lady on Berk just hand over a baby. This was just… their reality, an unshakable fact. He was so lost in his head it was like he _blinked_ and was suddenly in the Great Hall, almost walking into Valka’s back. He'd barely muttered an apology when she honed in on his mood like a damn Gyrfalcon, brows pinched tight. He must've looked a mess, because he sure felt like one.

“Come, sit…” she murmured, steering him by the elbow to a quiet corner.

So he sat, sighing deeply with his back to the room and Valka settled beside him. Gods, his chest felt like it was caving in, and his heart was fit to spear itself on his ribs. But _why?_ Guilt, fear, loss..?

“...being a parent isn't such a bad thing, even to a dragon.” Valka said.

“I never thought I'd be cut out for it either way. And-” his throat tightened, “-it's a poor substitute for what he _really_ wants and that… I can't give him. I'm just-”

“Eret.” she cut him off gently, “Wanting a family is not the same as wanting a child _._ And a family may well be what he wants, with _you._ Not just a baby for the sake of having one. Toothless is as much my son as Hiccup, and Foxglove is no different. I've _seen_ how you are with her, and Datura too. You aren't just a human to them, you're _kin.”_

She offered a small smile and patted his arm.

“Had fate been a little kinder… I think you would be an amazing father. The both of you.” she left him to his thoughts.

He… never thought of caring for them as parenting _,_ he didn't have to think twice about it at all. He just did what came first to mind, easy as breathing. Maybe that step of separation from _human_ let him forget… that he always feared becoming his father. Inflicting all _that_ on another generation. Hell, that was why he never bothered with women, or… that's what he told himself over the years. He never really considered anything _else_ until Cassian _._ But… it's not like there would never be new children around the village. And, their parents would need someone to watch those kids every so often, for their own sanity. Hiccup and Astrid had their hushed plans, he _knew_ he'd heard them discussing names once, and Ruff- no, _Thor_ no he didn't want to imagine another generation of Thorstons, tempered by Fishlegs or otherwise. They could lead the next batches onward, same as Gobber. That- that wouldn't be so bad.

Cassian would be missing him. And hungry. At least there was plenty of food left. He scrounged up stew and bread and half a pitcher of ale, balancing it carefully for the walk back. It took a little nudging to get the door open, but he found Cassian and Fox curled up before the fire and his heart ached something fierce.

“Don't get up, I'm coming.” he chuckled, “She's getting big _.”_

“And _heavy._ She must weigh almost as much as me now.” Cass smiled, so sweetly.

He kicked the door shut and set everything in easy reach, fetched some cups then settled at Cassian’s side. Foxglove chirped, blinking slow until he scratched her brow.

“Yeah, you're only gonna get bigger kitten. Better enjoy that while you can, soon you'll be giving auntie Shade a run for her money.” he murmured.

Cassian paused, spoon halfway to his mouth, and let it drop back into the bowl.

“Eret-” he said, wavering, “I- I don't just want a child, it's more than that and I don't want it without you _._ A _family…”_

Eret blinked. “How the _hell_ did she do that.”

_“What?”_

“Valka can read minds. _Anyway-”_ he shook his head, “She… knocked a little sense into me. As big as Berk is… there are gonna be kids around, _always,_ and their parents shouldn't have to do everything alone. We can do as Gobber always has and help along. So what if there are no _heirs_ or _bloodlines…_ there needs to be someone on the side to pick up the slack. And Fox… well, I may not be able to chat like you do, but she's never been just an animal _,_ not to me.”

Foxglove thrummed, rolling under both their hands and Cassian sniffed, leaning into him.

“C’mon, eat up before it goes cold.” he gave Cass a nudge, “We can always talk later. And, I'm sure Datura will run us ragged tomorrow. We should turn in early.”

Cassian nodded, and ate quickly. He gathered the dishes, lit a candle, banked the fire back and extricated his fiance from their scale daughter. How strangely, _beautifully_ unexpected his life turned out to be. A year ago-

He froze at the foot of the stairs.

“What is it?” Cass prodded.

“It's been more than a year since the Shetlands, it just… slipped my mind completely.”

“...it _has_ been, hasn't it? Damn, I didn't even notice it's- it's felt like forever _.”_ Cassian laughed in disbelief.

“Yeah…” he thought back, to those wedding plans as he led the way up to the loft.

The candle took it's place on the side table, and he pulled Cass close by both hands.

“For the wedding…” he mumbled, face warming, “What about the day we came home? In spring, that should be after Hiccup’s.”

“Well, I hope _you_ remember what day that was, frankly I was so stir-crazy from the winter storms I hadn’t a clue.” Cass ducked his head.

“31 days after the equinox. I, uh… like to keep track. Old habits.” he only flushed darker.

That tender, crooked smile tugged at Cassian’s lips before he swept in for a kiss.

“That sounds perfect.”

Foxglove woke them at dawn, scratching at the door to go out. The chill was starting to creep in properly now, they would need to get Cassian kitted out for the _real_ cold of the north. Proper woolen trousers, fleece boots, a good hat, probably another cloak to go over his jacket… _Gods_ he would look good in seal fur, or a winter reindeer pelt… They had their wedding clothes to consider too, all cut from the same bolt of white cloth. There would be plenty to do, once the harvest was over. They might be better served moving the bed downstairs too, get it closer to the hearth and put the table in the loft instead.

Out Foxglove went, and Eret stoked the fire back to a merry crackle. But to _hell_ with life, for just a little longer. His arm and ribs were finally better, they had privacy _,_ and he was going to take advantage of it. Cassian had rolled up in all the covers to gather the lingering heat close and it took a little poking and prodding to unwind him enough to slip in, mold against his back, pull him flush… Cassian hummed low, almost _rumbling_ as he pressed kisses to the back of his neck and rubbed slow circles over the crest of his hip.

“Mornin’” Cass groaned, back arching as he stretched.

He, quite purposefully, _ground_ back into Eret’s hips and mornings being as they were, he was already half-hard. Unthinking, he ground right back, gasping against Cassian’s neck.

“Hmm, _good_ morning.” he purred, and rolled over with one fluid twist.

“Nowhere to go just yet.” Eret stole a hungry kiss.

Cassian hummed in appreciation, breaking to a gasp when Eret pressed him flat on his back, hovering over enough to get a good long look. And _gods_ he could never get tired of seeing Cass like this. Flushed, breathless, eyes dark and wanting and he could see it all _properly_ in golden sunlight. The springs were nice, but that couldn't hold a candle to the way he glowed now. Cassian’s legs wound around his hips, dragged him closer and molten _want_ filled him, drove him to kiss Cass deep and slow, _demanding_. Desperate fingers raked through his hair as they fumbled over laces, wiggled out of tunics, got down to bare skin… Oh, how he _missed_ this.

***

Clean, rested, relaxed and fed, they finally emerged to face the day. Skullcrusher ambled by, giving a tour to the visiting herd, the Stormcutters hovered like kites off the cliffs… Wait, they hadn't checked on the Hotburples. He tugged Eret towards the smithy.

“Let's find Gobber, the Hotburples should be around here somewhere.”

“Oh, right. I hope they aren't _too_ much like Grump, there might not be any Gobber left!” Eret snorted, and Cassian elbowed him gently.

“Don't you joke like that.” he scolded, “Tough stuff you may be, but Gobber isn't a young man anymore, and there are only so many knocks a man can take!”

“Yeah… sorry.” Eret frowned, “Bad habit.”

 _“There_ you are!”

They both jolted and Gobber shoved between them, looping his arms around their necks.

“Oh lads, they're _beautiful!_ Come on, they're all around the back-”

“Gobber!” he yelped.

“Hold on, I'm-” Eret protested.

He paid no heed, dragging them both along to the back of the smithy where all three Hotburples lay in a great knobbly pile. Fast asleep of course.

“They flew in yesterday morning, found us right away! No idea _how,_ but they did!” Gobber let them go and they almost fell flat, “I've never seen Grump so happy! Tired himself right out though, he's been asleep ever since!”

Gobber almost _giggled,_ and Grump cracked one eye open at all the noise. That lone eye trained on him and widened. A long, sleepy thrumm of **gratitude** flowed between them, and Grump returned to his nap.

“Where did you _find_ them?” Gobber asked breathlessly.

“Datura’s home, this island that was a tower of cliffs with mountains and forests and lakes… It was _beautiful_ Gobber. But… they were the only ones.” Cassian sighed.

“Three is more than _one!_ And all those Rumblehorns too!” Gobber danced a little jig, “Oh, this’ll be the Snoggletog of the century!”

He blinked slowly, “The- the _what?”_

 _“Snoggle-_ oh. Right _._ Winter holiday after the Long Night, about a week after the first sunrise of the year.” Gobber explained, “About every other year the dragons fly off a few days before to this island to have their babies. Sad as it may be to miss all the hatching… it's for the best. Gronckle eggs _explode._ Astrid can tell you all about _that_ one.”

Gobber and Eret both snickered, and he had a nagging suspicion Astrid wouldn't be keen on telling that story, which meant he _absolutely_ had to ask.

“Anyhow, _this_ should be one of their best years yet! So many of our single gents have sweethearts this time around, _think_ of all the wee ones!”

Gobber continued his little dance, laughing giddily while Eret just chuckled.

“Don't worry, no one gets the name and it's too late to change it. But, there's no telling if there's eggs in _everyones’_ future.” he frowned, thinking hard, “Who _knows_ how long Night Furies court for, or Stormcutters. Or if they even breed in the same season.”

“I guess we’ll just have to wait and see. Same for any strange little Sickle-Nadders.” Cassian paused, “Do you think it's possible?”

Eret could only shrug, “Who knows? It would certainly be a first for _me.”_

“I bet they’d be _stunning.”_ he sighed whistfully.

“You'll have a whole _army_ of sharp and pointy dragons.” Eret nudged his side.

“Don't tempt me. And- don't tell the twins.”

Eret grimaced, slowly nodding, “Yeah, better not.”

Datura found them soon after, wiggling all over with her eagerness. She had taken her family to the caves all on her own it seemed, but now they wanted to see more. **Food** and **question** he prompted, and she **affirmed** , showing the whole clan at a feeding station. Good, now they just needed to find Tyrian-

 **Dissent,** she protested, throwing herself at the back of his knees and following with the image of them flying together with her parents. Well, how about that.

“She wants us to show everyone around.” he explained, stumbling along, “And, to fly with Scarab and Lantana again.”

“Well, _I_ won't turn that down. See you later Gobber.” Eret waved over his shoulder.

“My, does Skullcrusher have competition?” he teased.

“It's only because he's busy. He's… the only dragon for me. To ride, you know, on the regular.” Eret scratched at his neck, “Hiccup trusted me to take care of him after- after everything. It wouldn't be right to shove him aside for something newer and shinier.”

Cassian smiled, lacing their fingers together, “You have a good heart, son of Eret.”

“I try. It's… been a long road to this point.” he sighed, “I was so _angry_ for a long time after I set off on my own, until I found my footing in the dragon trade. I… understood them, in a different way. I learned how to use their anger against them. Hell, I caught some of the dragons that are still _here_ because of Drago’s army.”

“Eret…”

“I know, it just… weighs on me sometimes, when I see them. They're civil enough, but I can't help but wonder why they never… took anything out on me. They've had plenty of opportunities, I _know_ they know who I am. They just… don't. Or, won't? I don't know.” he kicked at a pebble, “I probably would, if I was one of them.”

Cassian pulled him to a stop and off the path, ignoring Datura’s protests.

“Maybe their capacity to forgive is just as great as yours is to change.” he said, cradling Eret’s face in his hands, “They can _sense_ it in you, I'm sure of it. In your own way, you may have some of this dragon-speak, enough for them to understand. Lantana and Scarab could hear you, almost as clear as me. The others could have seen you for who you _truly_ are, same as the rest of Berk.”

“That… _would_ explain why Crush came around so quickly. He looked fit to eat me the first time I ever saw him.” Eret mused.

Cassian shrugged, standing up on tip-toes to kiss him.

“We can experiment with that later, see how right that guess is. But, Datura will move on to chewing my leg if we don't start walking again.” he huffed a laugh.

Datura growled, muffled by the mouthful of trousers she tried to haul him along by.

“We’re _coming_ , be a little patient.” Eret scolded, before stealing another kiss.

Cassian yelped against him when Datura nipped his leg and stomped away.

“Oh she is _so_ grounded.” he pouted.

“Her parents are here, you've lost grounding privileges.” Eret snickered.

“Shut up.”

The Fury clan waited on the lower banks, looking over the ships below with wary curiosity. He greeted them with a gentle **hello,** and Lantana looked over her shoulder, rippling with **question,** about the boats. Ah… they wouldn't know about fishing, would they? He showed them a memory of all these boats throwing nets overboard and, with the help of dragons, hauling in great seething masses of fish, **food,** nothing else. That got a pulse of **relief,** but much more calm curiosity as she looked around the rest of Berk.

“Datura wanted us to show you around, _very_ much.” he said aloud, looking at the younger Fury pointedly.

She strutted right by to tackle one of the other siblings, the blue-green one. _Capri,_ that would be a good name. She certainly had the look of the cliffs, and the sea there… Lantana unfolded from her spot in the grass and Scarab followed to offer their backs, while their children shot to their feet, milling eagerly around them. He threw a leg over Scarab’s neck, mindful of his frills, gripping hard as he dared with knees and ankles. Maybe they could whip up a sort of saddle out of cloth, their scales were so _delicate_ and leather could be too rough…

“I'm not hurting her right?” Eret asked, shifting uneasily.

“Yes, you're fine. Just mind her frills, they are so very soft…”

Lantana hummed, auricles flicking as she glanced back, eyes roving over the man on her shoulders. Eret looked to _him_ uncertainly but she was simply **curious.** About what though, he could not tell. He **questioned** her politely, and that curiosity honed in on Eret’s tattoos. How strange…

“Cass?”

“She's wondering about your tattoos, no idea why.” he explained, “Why don't you tell her about it along the way? We can show them the beach.”

“It's… not a _fun_ story.” he mumbled, scratching his chin, “And there's not much to it. Just… got stabbed with a tiny needle a couple thousand times when I turned 16. Took almost a _year_ to finish, with all the time it had to heal…”

Cassian frowned, lips pressing thin.

“I'm sorry…” he murmured, and Scarab sidled closer.

Eret just shrugged, “It was tradition, ‘becoming a man’ or whatever. As if I wasn't already, and all I needed was ink ground into my face for hours on end.”

Lantana’s auricles drooped and **sympathy** rippled around her, but something lingered. **Familiarity** … He would ask later, they were burning daylight.

“Well…” he managed to snatch Eret’s hand, “I think it suits you, tradition or not. Folks down in Europa will certainly think twice before picking a fight. Of course, that's on top of you being head and shoulders taller than most men I’ve seen. _I'm_ tall by local standards, if you can believe it.”

“Well, you know how to flatter a man.” Eret chuckled.

“I can't brag about anything _else_ particularly large in public now, can I?” he winked.

Eret flushed to his ears and with a touch, Scarab shot into the air.

They flew in force around Berk, low along the cliffs and close enough to the sea to watch the dragons under the waves. It was a _beautiful_ day, the sky was clear and calm… though Scarab seemed to suspect a storm in the future, somehow, and Lantana agreed. Well, they could just keep an eye out. The fledgelings tumbled and swooped around them, all following Datura with growing confidence. But little Crush always seemed to linger by Eret on every pass, staring with wide, bright eyes. How sweet…

The little cove opened in the cliffs to a steep, wide beach cut in two by a stream, and the Light Furies needed no prompting. They landed hard, plowing into the sand and there Cassian lost his grip, toppling off Scarab’s shoulders and landing on his back. He sat in his own little crater for a moment, trying to catch his breath while Eret laughed at his expense. 

“Oh hush.” he pouted.

So the dragons played, rolling and scrubbing themselves through the sand for a good cleaning and Eret followed after them like a shore bird, digging around for the shed scales and filling his pockets to bursting with them. Oh, he _must_ be planning something. Well, two could play at that game. He had his own wedding gifts to make, and he _might_ be in luck with all these Rumblehorns around. Maybe a new pair of scaled bracers, to match his vest. Or- _oh,_ a new cloak, wool lined with fur and a great mantling of gold scales over the shoulders… not _too_ long, no that wouldn't suit him at all. Sure it would have limited use during and after a spring wedding, it was the thought that counted. But, the wedding itself… where should it be? They did have some sort of speech, or trading of vows right? Did they need a priest, a witness? He could ask Gobber later, but the simpler it _could_ be, the better. The posturing, the pageantry… that's not what mattered, not to him.

The Furies had their fun and by noon they were back in Berk, where the Alpha Fury had made herself a little nest by the Great Hall. She watched over the village, cool and calm, soaking everything in. It must be so strange for her to see, the world her child helped build for man and dragon alike. Scarab and Lantana landed a polite distance away, but they stayed as the fledgelings scattered to explore.

“Thank you Scarab, feel free to wander. You know where to find us.” he patted the dragon’s shoulder.

“Let me guess…” Eret huffed, “If I ask, you won't tell me what a ‘scarab’ is either.”

“No, I'll sate your curiosity _this_ time.” he teased, tugging a lock of Eret’s hair, “It's just a type of beetle, but they’re of the same colors. Same as lantana, a flower. Capri is an island near Rome, famous for it's clear water…”

At the dragons’ curious prodding, he showed them one by one what he meant; the bug, the flowers, the ocean… all tinged with **affection** and **fondness** . Lantana seemed amused, Scarab less so, but the concept of names was still a little **foreign.** They understood well enough, but they addressed each other with varied _thrumms_ that try as he might, he couldn't make heads or tails of. It just left him sneezing when he asked what they called Datura. **Amusement** washed off them, the Alpha most of all, and Eret stared.

“Dragons have weird names.” he explained, then sneezed again.

“Well, can't say I'm surprised. Mom-Fury found it funny at least.” Eret snorted.

 **Annoyance** struck sharp as a whip and he sneezed again, shaking his head to try and clear the disorientation. Alpha growled, twisting about and he could _feel_ the twinge of an itch along her spine. Oh no, he knew how this could end. A Timberjack she wasn't, but a dragon of her size could still flatten a house.

“Wait, wait hold on-” he rushed over, pushing further with **help, assistance.**

The Fury groaned, the skin on her back twitched as her wings trembled with the effort of keeping still. Great, perfect, now- how to get up there... He clambered up her shoulder and shuffled down her back on his knees to the spot he knew troubled her. There, he scratched as hard as he dared, down and across the grain of her scales, wobbling as she bucked and rolled-

A few old, dull scales flaked away and she gurgled in relief, warm **gratitude** brushing his cheek. It must be hard for them to get a good scrub, with nothing but grass, tall pines and rocks on Tower Island. Maybe they could build some grooming stations there, they would surely appreciate it. They could easily help dragons far and wide with a few of their inventions. He gathered the scales and slipped them into his pocket, then _carefully_ eased down Alpha’s back to slip to the ground without ruffling any more scales. He wasn't keen on testing her patience, reasonable as she may be.

“It seems no dragon is too noble for an itch.” Eret chuckled.

“Some things strike peasant and king alike.” he agreed, “And I was thinking, maybe we could make a gift of a few scratching brushes to their home. Just the posts, a few sizes and angles, nothing too intrusive. Make ourselves neighborly.”

“Not a bad idea, it would be something for the carpenters to work on.” Eret shrugged.

“All in good time…”

Eret was called away soon after to work on one of the ships, so he took the opportunity to track down the Rumblehorns and coax them to the grooming stations. With a helpful demonstration from Skullcrusher, they scrubbed and rolled and preened, shedding _far_ more than he expected. He had to run to the smithy for a satchel and filled it to the brim with scales of gold and silver, blue and bronze… Oh there would be more than enough for whatever he wanted. And that cloak, maybe he could leave it wool, like his old one, with a loose mantle of embroidered scales and a _wolf_ pelt draping over his shoulders and down his back… Oh, he would look like a _king._ But, there was still Hiccup to consider. They had those crystals, pretty enough without any polishing. Maybe those could be worked into clasps for a cloak? _More_ to ask Gobber about, find out what everyone else was making and what was already made. They could also promise gifts of the goods they brought back from Europa. They'd be late but surely worthy of someone like the chiefly couple.

With his mission complete, he squirreled his scales away in the smithy, hidden behind his glass tools and barrels of sand and Gobber caught him in the act, a sly grin twinkling around his eyes.

“So, what are _you_ planning there?” the smith goaded.

“Wedding presents.” he rolled his eyes fondly, “But I'm sure you knew that already.”

Gobber chuckled and eased down into a chair.

“So, gonna share with the class?”

“A cloak, with a mantle of fur and Rumblehorn scales. I might have to go hunting for a _wolf,_ and the hide will need tanning…” he sighed, already dreading the prospect.

“That's some undertaking. But the Thraks handle most of that, and they're _discrete.”_ Gobber winked.

“Bracers too, but that will be easy.” he shrugged, _“But,_ I do need to plan the Haddock’s gifts. We found crystals in Tower Island that could work well in something…”

 _“W_ e do have cloaks and clasps done already, and the fancy jewelry…” Gobber hummed, thinking hard, “But, I _might_ still be able to add a little something extra.”

“I also had the thought of making late gifts of what we trade for down south. Silk, spices, wine… it would just be a long time coming.” there, he was a little more unsure.

“Yours would _certainly_ be the most unique. But it is good form to have something for the wedding proper. Bring those rocks of yours over, we’ll have a look-see.”

He nodded in agreement and sat as well, face falling as he thought.

“...what’s the matter lad?”

“Just… thinking ahead. And realizing I don't know a thing about _your_ traditions.” he admitted.

“Oh, that's no problem, there's not much to it at all! We just have these banners, the village elder binds your hands with it, after that there's a big ol’ party and after _that,_ well… I'm sure you can guess. Everyone knows not to ask questions. That's how Stoick’s went back in the day, and I expect no less for Hiccup. But, all that _needs_ to happen is the bit with the banner.” Gobber shrugged.

“We… don't do anything like that down south. The whole show lasts _hours.”_ he grimaced, “The difference is welcome. But, we don't have a banner-”

“Ah, don't you sweat _that._ We have to make new ones all the time!” the smith chuckled, “They may _ideally_ be heirlooms, but fires happen, or family drama, or some kid uses it to blow their nose _._ We’ve got plenty of material and all the right people get bored in winter. It'll get done, don't you worry.”

“And, Eret is going to invite his father. He’ll be by again sometime soon to visit, get the date to come back now that we’ve chosen…” he said, but there was no slyness. Gobber didn't seem that keen on the man, he didn't want to prod.

Gobber blinked slowly.

“Eh, he _what?”_

“He… invited his father back. I know he made a menace of himself, but that may well have been the fever. He should be in better sorts by now.” he shrugged.

“Lad, he didn't have a lick of fever by the second day. That was _all_ him.”

“...oh.”

“Yeah, he's near as bad as Snotlout in a way.” Gobber winced, “But, _that_ was a first... I'm used to it being the other way around.”

“Is that… good? Or bad.” Cassian asked cautiously.

“Dunno yet. I have to admit I get a little… _pappa-dragon_ about the young folks here on account of… well. You know.” he sighed, “And seein’ how bad that old seal spooled Eret up… I wasn't too inclined to be polite. But…”

“But..?”

“Well, he was _interested,_ even with me at my prickliest. Dunno how to feel about tha’...” Gobber frowned, scratching his chin, “Didn't exactly make a good first impression.”

“Now there's a fresh chance coming, and you can start off on the right foot. Or, the left, as you like.” he chuckled, and Gobber swatted at him.

Then, he sighed, “Not sure there's any recovering from _that…”_

Cassian stared, and Gobber stared back.

“What?”

“Did Eret not tell you how we _met?”_ he cracked a wry smile.

“No..?”

“He was kidnapped, bound and gagged, then forced at the point of his own sword into the shack I was living in.” he snorted, breaking into a giggle at Gobber’s shock, _“Obviously_ I let him go, and a storm kept us holed up for the night. But _that_ was a rocky start and we managed to work past it. You aren't beyond hope.”

 _“_ Romance isn't an old man’s game Cass…” Gobber sighed.

“Says who?” he pressed, “If you're interested, who can rightly stop you?”

“Don't even know if I _am_ to be honest. Hardly even remember what that feels like. It's… been a long time, you know. Small village, few prospects…” he frowned, brows pinching, “Plus, he seemed more interested in the smithing.”

“And who was _doing_ the smithing? Don't be so quick to sell yourself short.” Cassian said more softly, “You _can_ just… test the waters. Chat, and see what happens.”

“I suppose…”

***

At dawn, Alpha left for home, but only two Stormcutters and six Night Furies left with her. The rest, even the _Rumblehorns_ stayed. It seemed the open forests and mountains suited them all, and Hiccup… well, he was _beside_ himself, as was Valka. And for Skullcrusher’s sake, he was pretty damn happy too. The herd was content to roam the island, only visiting the town for meals and Cassian got _awfully_ excited about that, kept dragging them to the grooming station… Well, he must be planning something too, and he could have his secrets. Eret had his own schemes and the Light Furies were helping greatly. Half a dozen pouches of scales he had now, sorted by color… but what to _make?_ Everyone here wore their culture proudly, except Cassian. He came with no colors, no patterns… even _that_ had been left behind in Al-Mariyah. And _he_ couldn't replace what he didn't know. Maybe… he could share his own. Make a good pair of furred boots plus lighter slippers for indoors, all embroidered with dragon scales and the patterns he grew up with. That was a good start, and if he could find a _seal_ they would be perfect for weathering the winter. There were plenty down in the Shetlands, or maybe closer. There was still a little time before the first frost and harvest, they could make one last trip… _Oh,_ that could make a good gift for the Haddock wedding too, all the more reason to go. That meant a trip by the Thrak’s for supplies to get the skins back in good condition and… he would need a little help. It wasn't safe to travel alone this time of year, and Skullcrusher wasn't really built to pluck seals from the water.

But Cloudjumper was.

Valka wasn't hard to find, predictably out on the cliffs watching the Stormcutters soar. They got along better than ever, but he was… still a little unsure. There _was_ that time they had tried to kill each other, and they'd chosen to forgive and forget. But guilt still clawed under his ribs sometimes, even now as he crossed the cliffs. He awkwardly cleared his throat as he approached, making Valka jolt.

“Oh, Eret! You caught me daydreaming.” she chuckled bashfully.

“Sorry…” he shuffled his feet, “I had a bit of a plan to go hunting, get some furs for wedding gifts. I'll need a little help.”

Valka winced, “Oh, I'm afraid we already have cloaks finished for the both of them.”

“Gobber’s filled me in, don't worry. I was actually going to make _slippers_ for Astrid and boots-” he paused, then snorted, _“One_ boot for Hiccup. And… the same for Cass.”

“Oh, she’ll adore that.” Valka smiled, “But, maybe… make them _roomy,_ she’ll need it if her feet start swelling. I would’ve killed for that.”

She sighed and he stared, squinting in confusion.

“Why… would her feet be swelling?”

“Oh! I suppose you _haven't_ been privy to the rigors of pregnancy.” she chuckled, “Well, many things change and it's different every time, but my feet swelled almost double when I carried Hiccup. So, something roomy will be worth it's weight in gold.”

“Duly noted.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I was after seals, figured we could go south-”

“Oh, no need for that. I know just the place, about half a day’s flight north. We can leave tomorrow, be back the next day.” she said.

“Fair enough. Faster than what I had planned.” he shrugged.

“Good, we’ll leave early then. And I'm sure Lady Sunset will follow.”

Eret rolled his eyes, “Let me guess. Cassian?”

“But of course!” Valka laughed.

By the end of the next day, they had half a dozen fine sealskins packed in a barrel full of some kind of noxious pickling lye-brine, per Mr. Thrak’s instructions, and the dragons had themselves a feast. The kills had been quick, clean… and he murmured the _old_ prayers as he worked. Hadn't had to say those in a while. The extra set of hands helped in the work, Valka was just as quick and efficient and they soon had a little campfire going against the cliffs. It _was_ getting colder and he almost missed his old cloak, or even just a longer tunic. Maybe mittens were in order too, couldn't have his husband-to-be getting frostbite. And, they could bring the seals that the dragons had yet to touch home with them, no sense letting it all go to waste. Sunset could probably carry that just fine.

“This smell is gonna take _weeks_ to wash out…” he huffed, scrubbing his hands through the sand again.

“Yes, it is not the most pleasant.” Valka’s nose wrinkled, “But _Skullcrusher_ disagrees.”

 _“He_ can smell like a seal all he wants, I’d like to be allowed back into my own home tomorrow. At least we’ll be keeping the Thraks busy…”

 _“Very_ busy.” Valka said slyly, “Don't be surprised if Cassian’s gone off on his _own_ hunting trip when we get back.”

“Conspirators, the lot of you.” he groused, “Fine, keep your secrets. I've got my own and I'll brag all about them.”

“Whatever keeps you _sane_ until spring.” she rolled her eyes.

There was quiet for a time as only the fire crackled. The dragons settled around them, offering shelter from the wind, and a few slabs of good, fatty seal meat still roasted away, so nearly done. He fiddled with the makeshift spits, his fraying bracers, the hem of his tunic, suddenly uneasy in the silence.

“I, uh… never apologized.” he muttered, “For that night at the fort.”

Valka blinked in mute surprise, and Cloudjumper stared over her head.

“Well…” she pursed her lips, “We _did_ wreck said fort, so I suppose we’re even.”

“I was intent on killing you to save my own hide, there's no making that ‘even’-” he protested.

“You were only trying to survive. Drago brought out the worst in many, men and dragon alike. When the time came, you _changed_ and I have my daughter-in-law because of that. And, my nephew.” she winced.

“Wait, _who?”_

“Snotlout.” Valka failed to mask a long-suffering sigh, “His mother is Stoick’s sister and so long as either of us has a pulse, we’re family. For better or worse.”

Eret said nothing, lips pressed thin.

“But… you, and the rest of Berk were proof of everything Hiccup believed in, and I _needed_ to see that. That I had been wrong, and left Hiccup all those years for nothing…” she continued.

“I don't think it was for nothing.” he said softly, “So much had to happen _just right,_ for all of us. If I hadn’t met Cass, I don't know if I would’ve listened that day. And if _he_ hadn’t been here… I don't even want to entertain the thought. Maybe all our lives were meant to be this way, the good with the bad. Call it fate, the work of gods or spirits… We’re all here and planning for a _future_ because of it, and I'm not about to criticize a gift like that. But, fate or not, my actions were my own and for that…”

He took a deep breath and extended a hand around the fire.

“I'm sorry.”

Slowly, Valka took his hand and shook firmly.

Berk was a welcome sight, but he had a nagging suspicion that Cassian wouldn't be home, as Valka had warned. So long as he didn't run off _alone…_ he could deal with it. They would have all winter to be cooped up together. The barrel of skins went to the tanning shack on the fringes of town, and as much as he loathed the prospect he was expected to help starting tomorrow. The skins still had to pickle another day. The rest of the Stormcutters took care of the meat they brought back… and he trudged to the smithy. Gobber was hard at work, and the glass furnace was cold.

“Sorry, he left this morning.” Gobber huffed, and switched out his hammer for tongs, “And Snotlout went with him. Nightshade too. They… might be a while.”

He nodded slowly, “Secret plans then?”

“Yeah, same as you. I _do_ think you'll enjoy it though.” the smith chuckled.

He rolled his eyes and meandered off in search of Foxglove. No need for her to be missing _both_ dads. He missed Cassian enough for the both of them already.

The next morning they fleshed the hides until the skin was snow-white, left them to soak another day and scraped them again. Another two days, another scrape-down, and the furs were soaked in new saltwater, then washed again in fresh water. Mr. Thrak set them up to dry for a time, then wiped them down with something _truly_ foul. As the pelts tanned they stretched and beat and wrung them until they were soft and supple, _perfect._ The Thraks got three of the pelts for their troubles, the _best_ of his three he set aside for a coat, and now he could start cutting. Maybe the mittens first, to get used to working sealskin again. Oh, and he should cut thicker soles of yak leather _now_ to get the right sizes for the boots, with a little help from Valka.

He really, _really_ missed Cassian, and it had been an awfully long time…


	21. Chapter 21

Why, why did it have to be _Snotlout._ He had Nightshade and he knew the way to the Shetlands just fine! But, Hiccup insisted and he couldn't refuse. With how long and far this trip was, and the fickle changing of the weather, a petulant fool watching his back was better than nothing. They both carried along barrels, one small one large, to fill with seawater and Mrs. Thrak’s sachets of powders to preserve the skins until they got back. Snotlout, to his credit, knew how to dress a kill and scrape the pelts afterwards so they could get the whole process started along the way, and he could skin a rabbit well enough. They were after a wolf, ideally, but with a trip this long and winter on the way, they should bring back as much as they could. Rabbit, fox, otter, deer… all of that could be found here, and it would be useful one way or another.

“Are we almost _there?”_ Snotlout whined, and **annoyance** rumbled through Hookfang.

 _“Yes._ I told you around midday. But we need to keep going, to the forests along the coast. I know there are wolves there, I’ve seen them.” he huffed.

“Why a _wolf,_ what difference does it make? Fur is fur.” Snotlout sagged over Hookfang’s head.

 _“Because._ He gave up his cloak for me, so I'm going to replace it with something better.”

“You're such a _sap.”_

He glared over his shoulder, though the goggles hid it. But Snotlout… looked every bit like a kicked dog. What was _with_ him? Hookfang snorted, a certain begrudging, sympathetic **fondness** gathering between his horns. Even his dragon didn't know, or wouldn't say. They could have that talk later, when they weren't shouting over the wind.

They crossed the Shetlands well before noon, turning east from there to follow the coast down, down, down, for another hour or two until they finally found a proper forest. As great a help in the hunt as Datura would’ve been, he didn't dare take her so far, especially now that her family was back. They would have to rely on his bow and Tyrian, and _hope_ they could find what they needed, quickly. He didn't like sneaking away, and he missed Eret already, the absence was so keen he felt it like a missing limb. Down, down he pushed those thoughts, focus on the land below, look for a good hunting spot. Prey needed shelter, water, food, find that and the rest would naturally follow...

Before long they came upon a winding river that cut deep through the forest and cliffs to the sea, and there they might just be able to make camp. That needed exploring though, and Tyrian was the only one nimble enough to risk a dip below the treeline. A little further in they found a hollow in a hillside, guarded from sight, wind, and at least some weather, with plenty of room for the dragons to land. So, there he called the others and they unloaded their gear, then built up a fire to boil water to refill their waterskins. They could rest, maybe try for a few rabbits while there was still daylight…

Nightshade rumbled, sniffing the breeze and Tyrian did the same. They smelled nothing _human_ thank the heavens, but they only knew it as **prey,** a furred-creature smell.

“They've found something, I'll be back.” he said shortly.

He strung his bow, and followed the Nadder with a few arrows in-hand. Couldn't risk spooking anything with a rattling quiver, and he really only needed _one_ dragon. Tyrian strutted along, nose to the ground, moving with surprising stealth. The forest was not so thick here, there were a few stumps from trees clearly felled by axes, but those were all old, dry or rotted out. If there were other people, they had long since come and gone. Otherwise it was sparse, the underbrush thin, and the going was easy. Soon Tyrian froze, the **prey** instinct spiking. Cassian stopped beside him, and it took entirely too long to spot what the Nadder did, a dusky rabbit at the base of a pine tree. It was too far for him to hit, not without spoiling the skin, but Tyrian… Without a word, the Nadder’s quills rose and he _flicked-_

The rabbit fell dead with a spike clean through it's skull.

They took half a dozen rabbits, a martin _and_ a fox that way in an hour, but they still had to clean it all before the skins spoiled. So, to camp they returned, following Tyrian’s nose. Snotlout said nothing as he set his catch down, and Hookfang helpfully left with the smaller of the two barrels once he prised the lid out, to fill it in the sea. He started skinning the first rabbit, rolling his eyes when Snotlout just kept starting into the fire, looking sour _._

“Fine, be that way…” he muttered under his breath.

At least rabbits were easy. He had the first finished and ready to brine by the time Hookfang returned, neck arched proudly. Cassian sent his **thanks** and grabbed the smaller bag of ash and salts, mixed it all together with a stick and there he left the pelt to soak, starting to cut another. Hookfang rumbled, curling around his rider to nudge him closer to the work.

 _“Hey!”_ Snotlout hissed, “Now _you're_ on his side too?”

Hookfang properly growled against his back, dark with **admonishment.**

“Knock it off, I'm _not_ going over there!” he shoved the dragon away.

Cassian scowled, face growing hot. What was _wrong_ with that man? He tried to ignore them as he skinned the next rabbit and the two wrestled, tossing the meat to Nightshade and the pelt in the barrel. They could cook one or two for themselves…

Hookfang snarled and grabbed Snotlout by the scruff, lumbering over to dump him a few feet away, corralling his rider in with a great sweep of his tail. He snapped his jaws in Snotlout’s face, glaring him down. **Injustice, cowardice** hovered like accusations.

“Why don't you go paint yourself purple if you like him so much!” the man practically whined.

“What the _hell_ did I ever do to you?” he finally snapped, throwing his knife down.

Snotlout’s scowl deepened as he fought against his dragon.

“I dunno, why don't you ask your good pal _Hookfang_ with your cool dragon powers?”

“What are you _talking_ about?!”

“You know what I mean Mr. Hero! You got everything! The fame, the cool stuff, Er-” he cut himself off, red all the way to his ears. His eyes were wet.

Cassian could only stare, lip curling in something like disgust.

“So you're _jealous?_ That's what this is all about?” he sneered, “I didn't ‘get’ any of that, it just _happened._ I asked for nothing and I fought anyway _,_ because that was the _right_ thing.” 

He glowered hotly and Hookfang shoved Snotlout again.

“Must be nice to be top-dragon, never getting crowded out by someone _better-”_

 _“Do not speak as if you know me.”_ he stood sharply, _looming_ and the dragons rumbled, “For the first time in my life I am seen, I have a _voice._ I was nothing before Berk and I will not make myself small for a child in a man’s body! You think acting like a bully will endear _anyone_ to you? Maybe you should be looking at why others ‘win’ when you pit yourself against them.” 

He seethed, burning-hot and Snotlout stormed off into the woods, sniffling and scrubbing at his face. Hookfang let him go, sighing long and deep as he watched. The Nightmare extended a ripple of **apology** a moment later, head bowing.

“No, he deserved it.” he eased back down to his rock, taking up his knife again, “You… should go with him, make sure he doesn't fall down a _hole_ or something.”

Hookfang snorted, almost amused, and slunk after his rider.

All the furs were done by the time the sun started to set, and he left two rabbits to roast while his dragons ate what remained. But Snotlout was still out there, and it wouldn't do to leave him wandering in the dark, Hookfang or no Hookfang. With a long sigh, he lurched to his feet, put the lid firmly on the barrel, and **asked** Nightshade to guard the camp while he took up his bow and quiver. Tyrian sniffed the ground and he clambered into the saddle for the sake of speed. They trotted along, weaving through the trees, scattering squirrels and small birds they had no time to examine. The scent clung to the ground, like they hadn't bothered to fly. Not that such a thing would’ve stopped Tyrian of course. The forest grew thicker, and even in the dwindling light he could see the trail of broken growth, in the brush and branches overhead, even whole young trees were snapped in two. They were getting close, he hoped. He didn't want to be the one explaining how Snotlout got himself killed wandering off in the woods. The scent was growing stronger, but so was another…

The ground sloped towards a rocky bowl between the hills and Hookfang snaked through the trees, thrumming with **annoyance.** Snotlout was down below, approaching a shadowy den with his axe drawn, and over the Nightmare’s grumbling he could hear the snarling of wolves- 

And the whines of their _pups._

No. No wedding gift was worth senseless butchery _._

Tyrian dove, cutting Snotlout off and driving him back with an annoyed squawk.

“Hey! You wanted a damn wolf didn't you?” Snotlout tried to skirt the Nadder’s legs, “There’s two _right there._ We can get back home and forget this ever happened!”

 _“No._ We will not take more than we must, and _not_ a family. There are others.”

“They're just dogs _,_ get out of my way!”

“Snotlout-” 

Tyrian’s spiny frill prickled and he whipped to stare at the far side of the glen.

“Snotlout shut _up.”_ he barked, so loud his throat ached.

Thank the heavens he did, and followed their gaze to the crashing underbrush, growing louder, closer _._ Something dark sprinted right off the slope, falling hard and thrashing madly, snarling, frothing. It looked and smelled like a wolf, but _wrong._ Tyrian shifted uneasily, scenting the air again. It was poisoned _,_ by man or nature he did not know. But it scrambled to it's feet and bolted towards them, wobbling drunkenly and almost tumbling again.

“Hookfang, grab him!” he shouted, urging Tyrain forward.

It was either gunning for them or the den, and he would allow neither. With a flick of his wings Tyrian landed on the beast’s back, gripped it's neck, seized it's head between his teeth-

He bit down hard and it went limp.

“What was _that?!”_ Snotlout squawked, dangling from Hookfang’s jaws.

“It's a wolf, but poisoned with something, gone mad.” he drew a shaky breath, “It's getting dark, we need to get back to camp. Tyrian, bring this, _gently…”_

Well, that was certainly a turn in their fortunes. The wolves had gone quiet in their den, but the puppies still whined, yipped… Better not disturb them, or let anything eat the wolf’s corpse. Who knew what was wrong with it. Hookfang took off, still carrying Snotlout like a kitten and they followed, tracing the scent of their campfire home.

Snotlout actually helped this time, and was blessedly silent. That skin joined the rest, filling out the barrel. They still had the other, so... they should stay one more day. The rabbits were plentiful and winter was almost here, it couldn't hurt. There were growing kids back home after all, and they needed to keep warm. Nightshade carried the wolf corpse out to sea and burned it on some far-off rocks, but not before he cut out it's fangs and scraped them clean, leaving them beside the fire to dry. More trinkets never hurt after all, better than letting them go to waste. They ate, settled down… but he was still _angry._ Who was Snotlout to act like he was owed someone, _anyone,_ much less Eret? People were not prizes to be won, affection could not be demanded like coin _._ Jealousy and hurt were no excuse either. He had a nagging suspicion Snotlout was long used to getting his way, and this was the end result.

Hookfang rumbled, dropping the whole weight of his head on his rider’s stomach. Tyrian and Nightshade thrummed with **annoyance,** stirred from their half-sleep by all the noise.

“HookFANG-”

The Nightmare twisted, keeping Snotlout pinned with a claw and _glaring_ eye to eye.

“Okay! O- _KAY_ get _off!”_ he kicked fruitlessly at open air.

Hookfang wedged his snout under and shoved his rider clear across the camp, blankets and all. Cassian just watched, too tired to care. Snotlout struggled upright and grumbled something. He stared blankly and Hookfang **warned** him with a growl.

“I'm _sorry!”_ Snotlout blurted, crossing his arms.

Hookfang nudged him again and Snotlout sagged, drawing his knees up to his chest.

“I'm sorry…” he mumbled, “It just… hurts. Losing out _again_ and now I'm out of chances.”

“People aren't _chances_ Snotlout, and they aren't a competition to win or lose.” he sighed.

“Tell that to my _dad…”_ Snotlout said more quietly still, bitter and sullen.

“I'm beginning to notice a pattern here.” he groaned, scrubbing his face.

Snotlout just stared.

“Fathers utterly failing to raise their sons. I may not speak with Spitelout much, but he's proven to be a stubborn jackass the likes of which I've only seen _once_ before.” he slumped against Tyrian’s side, “You're a grown man now Snotlout, you _can_ give him a piece of your mind. He can't keep you under his thumb forever, and you aren't a dog for him to bully into submission. Not when it's hurt you so much.”

Snotlout nodded mutely, looking into the embers.

“You can be hurt and disappointed, even frustrated, but taking it out on other people accomplishes nothing. You'll only drive the people who _do_ care away.” he continued. 

“I'm surprised they stuck around this long…”

“Make it worth their while then. Prove their faith in you _right.”_

Hookfang thrummed, rubbing his head against Snotlout’s back.

“I _guess…”_ he muttered.

The next day netted them three deer and nearly two dozen more rabbits, but they would still have to _process_ all of it for tanning. So, they ended their hunt. The dragons had plenty to eat, they roasted some tender cuts of venison for themselves, and with Tyrian’s help he left a good portion of their surplus meat within easy reach of the wolves’ den. Payment, for disturbing them and hunting in their territory, and they did not linger to see if such a gift was accepted. They had what they needed and it was barely past noon, if they left now they could be home by tomorrow evening-

Tyrian rumbled, spines quivering as he scented the air. Something about the wind, the weather, maybe a storm? They would need better shelter for that, and fast.

“Snotlout! We need to pack up, quickly!” he shouted as they swooped in.

“What? Why?”

“Tyrian smells a storm. Hookfang, Nightshade, what say you?” he scrambled down.

The other dragons turned their eyes to the sky, humming low with eventual **agreement.**

“Storms here are proper howlers, and we need better shelter. I'll take care of the fire, get the barrels sealed and loaded. We’ll have to lay low until it passes.”

Snotlout got right to work. They packed their camp in minutes, quenched the fire and stashed the remaining meat in the cooking pot, then loaded Hookfang with the smaller barrel while Nightshade grappled the larger by it's rope netting. They shot back out to the open sky, where the wind was rising and everything had turned a sickly green-grey, which meant they were running out of time. They needed a cave, a ruin, _something._ They found that something just as the rain started, a gash in the cliffs _just_ big enough to fly into. Maybe it was a little too close to the sea, but the floor sloped uphill so he wasn't _too_ worried. They packed themselves deep, as far from the opening as they could get and Hookfang blocked the worst of the drafts with his bulk. The winds rose to a proper gale as they settled in to wait it out, echoing like a demon in the crags.

“You weren't kidding…” Snotlout muttered, shifting uneasily.

“It was even worse in the islands we passed over. The wind could move _boulders_ like so many pebbles, I saw it with my own eyes. And… it could sweep a man right off the cliffs. I don't even _want_ to think about what it could do to a dragon.” he sighed.

The dragons seemed to agree, **discomfort** rolling low in their bellies. But Nightshade had it the worst, this… this was too much like the cave. She trembled, but Tyrian nuzzled under her, covering her with a wing as he thrummed **assurance.**

The storm raged for hours, until sunset plunged them into darkness. They had no wood for a fire or even a lantern, so all they could do was sit in silence with the wailing sky all around them. How long would this _last?_ Not that they could leave anyway, but at the very least they could sleep in peace…

“This _sucks.”_ Snotlout huffed.

“Indeed.”

“Can't even work on the first batch of furs… Well, don't know if they're ready yet, but still- Hookfang would you _stop?_ My helmet’s not a chew toy!”

Tyrian shifted and Nightshade roused, sensing something over the storm.

“Snotlout, _quiet…”_ he whispered, staining to see over the Nightmare.

Man and dragon froze, “What is it?”

“I don't know. Stay here.”

He clambered over Hookfang’s tail and crept closer to the entrance, crouched low against the gale. He could barely see his hand in front of his face or hear above the wind, but the dragons still sensed _something._ In a lull between the howling, he heard it.

The desperate cry of a _child._

He shot out into the open, shielding his face against the rain.

“Hello!” he shouted into the storm.

“ _Help_!” the voice answered, right below him.

But dammit all he couldn't _see._ He threw himself on the ground, grasping blindly over the edge of the cliff until he found cloth _._ He grabbed a handful of it and _hauled_ with all his strength, shoulders and back searing with the effort. Whoever it was fell flat beside him, but still had the will to stand as he pulled them to their feet and ushered them into the cave. He was soaked through by the rain, but at least he wasn't wearing his coat. It surely would have been ruined… But the child shivered, he could hear their teeth chattering and their skin was cold as ice. He hoped a dragon wouldn't frighten the kid to death, if the cold didn't get them first.

“Come, we have to get you dried off. Watch your step-” he hoisted the child over Hookfang.

He warned the dragons to be **quiet** and **still** , they had to be careful. He grabbed for his blanket, which Tyrian helpfully supplied, and tossed it over the child’s head, scrubbing them roughly and muttering apologies.

“Here, sit. _God,_ what were you doing out there?” he asked, trying to keep calm.

“I-I was in a b-boat.” the child, a young _boy_ chattered, “I f-fell, sw-wam-”

“Easy, easy, it's alright.” he patted the boy’s back, “Just try to warm up. What’s your name?”

“Ori.” he sniffled.

“A good name. Here, you should drink. The water is clean.”

Cassian pressed the waterskin into the boy’s hands and helped him take small sips.

“Once this blows itself out, we’ll help you get back wherever you were going. In the morning, hopefully. Just rest, you’ll be safe.” he said softly.

Ori didn't even seem to notice he was laying against Tyrian’s side, he was so _exhausted_ he was out cold within minutes. 

“Hookfang, could you give us a little light please?” he whispered.

The Nightmare thrummed, coughing a few drops of fire over his tail to turn it into a torch. The light was scant, but enough to tuck the blanket a little more tightly around Ori, and drape his coat over the boy for good measure. All the dragons were keenly interested, but he gently **warned** them again that the boy did not _know_ dragons. They needed to warm him up to the idea, carefully. Hopefully, whoever he was with survived the night…

“Kid got _lucky…”_ Snotlout muttered.

“We might have to fly him out in the morning, so we’ll need to be on our best behavior. I'll carry him, the ship is bound to be small.” he shivered hard.

Nightshade pulled him close, tucking him under the warm weight of her wing where she scolded him to **stay, sleep.** He relented, only after asking them all to wake him if the boy stirred...

Nightshade nudged him awake and he came back to reality piece by piece. The sun was up, the storm was over, and Tyrian croaked insistently. Damn, the _boy._ He scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off with a few quick swats. Ori was shifting, buried under the coat and blanket, making little noises in half-sleep… maybe he was still dreaming. He pulled the coat back, slipping it on quickly against the biting chill. Hesitantly, he patted the boy’s shoulder and one eye cracked open.

“Da’, five more minutes…” Ori groaned.

That twisted like a knife in his heart, and he needed a moment to catch his breath.

“Sadly, just me… But we need to find your boat, before they get even further away.”

He shook Ori a little more firmly and the boy whined, slowly stretching upright and scrubbing his eyes. God, he couldn't be more than 12… Wait, _damn._

“Now, Ori- just stay like that for me, one moment.” he blurted, “Take a deep breath, and… promise not to scream. _Please.”_

The boy froze. “Why?”

“Because-” he bit his lip, “You've… been sleeping on a dragon all night, there are two more here with us. And I _promise_ they won't hurt you. Just… keep _calm_ and I'll show you.”

Trembling faintly, Ori lowered his hands and looked right, hunching down on himself. But Tyrian thrummed sweetly, sniffing well above the boy’s head.

 _“This_ is Tyrian, one of my dearest friends. He's just curious, I _swear_ you'll come to no harm here. We don't hurt children, and dragons don't either.” he said, low and even.

He slipped closer to his dragon, extending a hand for Tyrian to roll his nose into with a happy chirp. Ori was still wide-eyed and pale, but he was _watching,_ observing, seeing the truth.

“You can say hello if you like.” he offered.

Ori nodded slowly and Cassian pulled the Nadder’s head closer. The boy gave the dragon’s snout only a _fleeting_ tap and shrank back, holding his breath. But Tyrian wiggled, eyes squinted almost shut. So, Ori tried again, dragging one finger then his whole hand down the Nadder’s snout. A small smile cracked the boy’s face and Cassian’s heart soared.

“See? Not so bad. Just don't stick your fingers in his nose, or he’ll _sneeze.”_ he chuckled.

“He's so _warm.”_ Ori said, soft with awe.

“Yes, they are. Now, the others might look a little scarier but they're just as sweet. That _there_ is Hookfang and- well, there's Nightshade.” he stood to give her a scratch.

She leaned into his touch then settled with her head draped over Tyrian’s back, blinking slowly as she looked Ori over. He stared in turn, still a _little_ wary but he was sizing her up fairly. **Fondness** and **amusement** rippled through her like raindrops as the boy stood, leaned against Tyrian’s shoulder and _slowly_ stroked her jaw.

With introductions out of the way, they ate a little and got ready to move on. Nightshade grabbed her barrel, Hookfang grabbed Snotlout, and he helped Ori onto Tyrian’s back. It was a bit tricky, but there was just enough room for the boy to sit behind him and hold on tight as they took off, finally out in the open air. It was still cloudy, but that would spare them the glare off the water.

“So, what does this boat look like?” he shouted back.

“It's big! With two masts!” Ori answered.

...what? How did he fall off a ship that big? At least they would see it from afar.

“And what direction was it heading?”

“Uh… down? The down one!”

 _South_ he hoped. So south they went, flying high and far enough out that they could barely see the shore. Did they know he was missing? He hoped they didn't get too far…

Within twenty minutes, they found a two-mast ship sailing north. A very _familiar_ ship. He groaned, already dreading what he knew would be down there. He steered Tyrian down anyway, a long slow glide with a few measured swoops to lose height, until they could flutter to a gentle stop and perch on the rail. The crew stared, and a very familiar voice rose from the cabin.

“What are you _staring_ at, who is on watch? We have to find my-”

Ragnar froze mid-step, haggard and half-mad from lack of sleep and he croaked in shock. With a nudge, Tyrian hopped down to the deck and crouched low.

“I do believe you've lost something.” he slipped from the saddle and helped Ori down.

 _“Daddy!”_ he bolted as soon as his feet hit the deck.

Ragnar dropped to his knees, too shocked to even _blink_ as the boy crashed into him. Slowly, he crushed Ori against his chest and he _broke,_ sobbing into his son’s shoulder. Another child joined them, an even younger girl and their mother too, he didn't see where from. He _burned_ inside, like his chest was going to cave in and he scrambled back onto his dragon before the tears could fall. Tyrian wheeled, and barely lifted his wings when someone shouted, to _him._

“Hey mister, wait!” Ori ducked out of the crush of his family, running after them, “Wait! You gotta meet my dad!”

He grabbed at Cassian’s boot and- heavens take him, he couldn't say no.

“I think you'll find we’re already acquainted.” he forced a small smile, and dismounted once more.

“How? Dad’s been away for a _really_ long time…”

He winced, “That… might be a story for when you're older.”

When he snuck a glance, Ragnar looked fit to puke. The less said the better, for _their_ sake.

“That's quite the boy you have Ragnar.” he said a little louder, “Swam through a storm and climbed a _cliff_ in the dark. I only had to pull him up the last two feet!” 

“Wha-” Ragnar wheezed.

“All I know is he fell overboard-” he paused, turning to Ori to say more sternly, “-and I shouldn't have to say this, but _please_ don't play around on deck during a storm again. _Anyway,_ he was already almost to the cave by the time we heard him above the wind.”

Ragar slumped in disbelief, slowly scrubbing a hand over his face. But Tyrian was not content to be ignored, and nuzzled into Ori’s hair, chirping happily as the boy giggled.

 _“Ragar-”_ his mother choked, gripping her husband's arm like a vise. 

“Milla, dearest-” he winced, patting her arm for mercy, “It's fine, _really.”_

“Momma, can I go see?” the little girl tugged her mother’s skirts.

_“Dunni no-”_

She bolted anyway, shoving Ori aside with a suddenness that made Tyrian flutter back a step.

“Careful, careful…” he cautioned her back a measure, “You have to let him come to you. Here, stand still, hold your hand out and let him get a good sniff…”

Dunni fidgeted with her sleeves a moment, but slowly extended her arm, splayed her fingers, and Tyrian’s pupils blew wide. He rolled his nose into her palm and sighed deeply as the little girl gasped, and bounced eagerly in place. Her mother still looked stricken, especially when Tyrian started chasing the children around the deck.

“Isn't that _him?”_ she hissed once the children were out of earshot.

“Yes Milla, and he brought back our _son._ Does the rest really matter?” he said weakly, “And… it's not like I didn't deserve it.”

She frowned and looked to her children shrieking with laughter. Dunni sprinted hard and tripped on a board, but with an alarmed hoot Tyrian caught her by the back of her dress. He froze, wings fluttering for balance as he held her steady enough to get her feet back under herself, panting from exertion and shock. Tyrian sniffed her all over, muttering little, concerned chirps as she giggled.

With the children distracted and their mother… _almost_ won over, he managed to pull Ragnar aside.

“I didn’t expect you to start for Europa right away.” he said.

“I did not expect to _go._ But Griselda and Chaghatai want proof before they commit to a trip, they're setting up the lumber camp for now…” Ragnar sighed.

“Well, I suppose that's encouraging…” he drew a deep breath, “You should go to Al-Mariyyah, if you had to choose one place. You'll find more than enough there.”

He paused, thinking back to the other warlords. That _other_ man, ‘Chaghatai’, he had the look of the far East. Surely he would recognize silk?

“There is a cloth there, called silk.” he continued, “It's smooth, shiny, lighter than anything you've ever seen. I think your man Chaghatai will recognize it, and Griselda will be suitably impressed. Do you have anything to trade?”

“A few furs, a little lumber, whatever we could scrape together quickly.” Ragnar shrugged.

Silk was _expensive..._ they might need more than that. He waved Tyrian over and dug through his pack for the salvaged quills, a dozen of them- and two more. 

“Take these too, try to sell them to an armorer or seamster.” he passed the bundle over.

Ragnar stared in quiet shock, but took them with a nod of thanks.

“And… these, for the kids. So they don't forget-” he paused, remembering his _brothers_ with a bolt of clarity, “But _only_ if they promise not to stab each other with them.”

 _“Excellent_ idea.” Ragnar exhaled hard with preemptive exasperation, “And spoken like a parent.”

“No- not that. Just a brother, many times over.” he struggled to keep his face passive.

“Oh- aye, that'll do it too…”

Then Ragnar sagged, face creasing.

“I- I have no words, for what you've done. Anything you ask-”

He held up a hand, and the warlord fell silent.

“There _is_ no price I could name that could equal the life of a child, that- that _life_ is it's own reward. I ask for nothing but their happiness.” he said, voice growing tight, “I must go, it is a long way home.”

Ragnar nodded slowly and Tyrian returned at his **call** , though the children voiced their disappointment. They bid their goodbyes and returned to the sky, where Hookfang and Nightshade had been circling in wait. North they went, homeward bound.

It took longer than he would’ve liked to get home. _Another_ storm grounded them along the way, but they took the time to sift through both barrels and clean the skins carefully. It was foul work, but they could at least take turns holding and scraping the pelts over the plank Snotlout brought. And _gods above_ the wolf pelt was perfect. It was pierced in a few places around the neck, but he would probably be cutting that off anyway and Snotlout was even _helping_ him plan it all out. He was coming around, slowly but surely. Sure he still strutted and preened a bit, but he was damn good at his job, tweaking his designs as he sketched them in the sand. But to work on all of that… he might just have to come to a diplomatic agreement with his husband-to-be, and schedule times at the forge.

Finally, Berk- _home_ rose from the mist. But after encountering Ragnar, he _had_ to inform Hiccup, fill him in with what he'd learned. The trade reformation, at least for now, seemed to be well on track. And with this first sample of dragon scale, the market may well be primed for them to head down about this time next year. After, they went straight to the tanning hut, quietly, sneakily, to deliver their cargo. Mrs. Thrak insisted on checking every last pelt, only letting them go when she was satisfied with their work. They would both have to come back to help with all the other steps of the process, until it was done. But he _needed_ to see Eret, he ached down to the bone with how much he missed him. Him, and Foxglove. So he sprinted out as soon as he was able, forgetting the dragons entirely to run up the winding paths to _home._ Smoke rose from the chimney and he forced himself to stop and knock, to give Eret a chance to keep his secrets. Boards creaked, the door opened, and before be could say a word Eret crushed him close, grappling him around the shoulders. He sniffled, burying his face in Eret’s neck.

“What were you knocking for?” Eret finally asked, running fingers through his hair.

“We both have our projects to work on, I thought it fair to warn you.” he leaned into the touch.

“Nothing secret _today,_ you're in luck.” Eret teased.

“Good.”

He ushered Eret back inside, kicked the door shut, and kissed him soundly _,_ dragging him closer and standing on his toes to reach. But Eret did him one better, sweeping him right off his feet with such _strength._ He gasped against Eret’s mouth, clinging around his neck as a tongue slipped past his lips, and Tyrian squawked at the door.

 _“Now?”_ he groaned in frustration, almost growling.

Eret just laughed and set him down, “Well, did you get your pack?”

“No.” he pouted and stomped back outside with his blood _burning._

The wheat and oats were ripening in the fields, and the apples were fit to drop. They sharpened scythes and readied barrels and new millstones of Gronckle iron for the frenzy of harvest, but in the meantime Cassian worked on his gifts. By his own admission, Eret could work at home so _he_ would have the run of the smithy. Gobber helped drill the scales, Snotlout had saved the leather straps from the old cloak so he could cut fresh ones, and together they cast dozens of decorative rivets. Half were Rumblehorn-patterned, and half were Nadders, a clever idea and designs from Gobber. The wool bulk of the cloak was easy enough to hem and gather over a drizzly afternoon, then he added the studded straps. The shoulder-mantle was cut like a many-pointed star, and the scales would start blue at the furthest points, then shift to silver, pale gold then the deeper gold to honey-copper and bronze at the neck. As much as there was to stitch, he could leave that for something to occupy himself over the winter. Then the black wolf skin would go over it all once the edges were neatly trimmed, cut and sewn around the neck so the legs would drape over his shoulders and down the front. The bracers would be all copper and bronze scale to match his vest, with more of their dragon rivets around the cuffs, lined with the remnants of the wolf pelt, cut from the back legs.

Snotlout took his own _sneaky_ measurements of course, and Gobber was giddy with excitement over his own plans of early mornings and late nights. There were days where he and Eret both helped set the Haddock’s wedding regalia with gems, heavy cuffs and clasps of gold and more delicate chains and pendants of silver. For the first time in his life, he was _excited_ for a wedding, and not just his own. But winter was nearing and the dragons sensed a storm, they needed _every_ able hand to bring the harvest in. They worked sunup to sundown, stacking the grain in carts as fast as they could cut it. Gronckles helped tow those carts to the great store chambers in the Great Hall, where they could take their time with the threshing and winnowing, they just needed to clear the fields _now._ It was barely finished by the time the hail started, and man and dragon alike scattered for shelter. So, Cassian could finally spend the evening before the hearth, against Eret’s side and under a mountain of blankets, with Foxglove’s head in his lap.

***

The harvest was done, storehouses and pantries were filled, and homes were fortified with extra shelter around the doors by the time the first proper snow fell. It had been almost two months since his father left, very nearly that holiday they called ‘Dreadfall’, and Eret was starting to worry. Sure there were storms that could have caused delays, but if something happened… he would never know. Berk still made occasional patrols, but as the cold pressed in those got fewer and farther between. Cassian found him on the cliffs, looking out over the sea, and took his hand.

“He’ll come. I know he will.” he said, reading his mind. Again.

“Yeah…” 

Cassian squeezed his hand, “It's alright, if you're still not sure.”

“Just… still don't know what to feel is all.” he sighed, “All I ever wanted was for him to be proud of me, to treat me like his son and now that I've gotten a taste of that… It doesn't feel _real._ That little nagging thought is still there, saying he’ll go right back to who he used to be the second I give him a chance.”

“And… he can't prove he’s changed if you don't.” Cass sighed, “Only _faith_ can bridge that gap and if he fails… I am here. Always _.”_

Eret nodded once, swallowing hard.


	22. Chapter 22

It was verging on a blizzard when twin wing-sails lurched into view. A whole team of Gronckles and a particularly nice Scauldron helped tow the ship to the most sheltered harbor and beach it on the sand with the rest of Berk’s fleet. It took some convincing, but once the ship was battened down the Gronckles helped ferry the men and their supplies back to the Great Hall, where hot food, blankets, and Eret waited. _Very_ nervously. The sailors staggered in one by one, crusted with snow and salt-ice to crowd close to the center hearth, taking mugs of hot honeyed ale with mumbled ‘thanks’. He recognized a few of them through their frozen beards and furs, and they all seemed a bit leery of _him,_ but where was-

 _“Thor_ what a ride!” his father hooted, wobbling in as the doors shut behind him.

Relief hit hard and he huffed a weak laugh, meeting his father half way.

 _“There_ you are! You had me worried.”

“Oh, this is nothing! Not _great,_ but not the worst.” his father shrugged, but shook his offered hand firmly.

“Here, come sit, warm up…” he steered the old sailor to the fire and pulled up another chair, “So, where’d you float off to? Can’t’ve gone _that_ far.”

“Ha! We made it as far as those pretty white cliffs of Europa, all the way around both sides of Angleland! Lots of little villages, fancy churches, especially up that river in the middle to…”

“London.” another sailor supplied.

“Right! They weren't too keen on us, so we left. It was awful anyway, a great _stinking_ place. They filled their river full of corpses and offal! Who does that?!” Dad gestured wildly, and shivered hard.

“Take it easy… Here, drink this.” he filled another mug with ale.

“Ah, thank you…” his father took a few sips, “Some of the men split off long before we got there, but serves ‘em right. Everyone that's stayed is eager for more, and we’ll see it all”

A small smile pulled at his lips. So _that's_ where he got it from.

“So, ah…” Dad cleared his throat, “Where’s Cassian gone off to?”

“He's just down at the smithy, got a million projects to work on. Lots of secrets around with two weddings on the way.” he shrugged and poured a drink for himself.

“And the uh- the smith is still around?”

Eret choked.

The weather being what it was, no one was leaving the Great Hall. But he had a satchel full of things to work on and the light was plenty bright. So he started on the mittens, sized to his own hands. Quite convenient, that was. It was a simple thing, to get used to the weight and heft of the pelts. Snotlout was working on _yards_ of woven ribbon in that blue and white sawtooth pattern, to cover up the seams for everything he had planned. The mittens, boots, slippers, a hat, maybe a parka… He faintly saw his father fidgeting across the table, fingers itching to reach over and his shoulders tensed.

“Ah, may I..?” his father asked. Actually _asked._

He nodded and his father just turned the pieces in his hands a little, until the seam was pinched tight between his fingers and he could freely stitch down the edge.

“Really only works with the small stuff. It's a little easier.” Dad shrugged.

“Thanks.” he said simply.

Dad watched a little more, but still looked like he was itching to ask something-

“The kill was clean?”

Not what he expected, but, “Yeah, with the old prayers.”

“Good, good…” his father rucked up his sleeve to scratch at his arm, baring the fresh scars.

“That…” he winced, “Well, it looks healed at least.”

“Yeah, never better.” Dad cracked a small smile, “All thanks to that wee beastie.”

“I'm sure it's hanging around somewhere. Weather like this though, _everybody_ holes up.”

His father frowned, brows pinching, “And, how are you? Your arm, all that.”

“Good as new. Mostly.” he shrugged, “Still twinges sometimes, but I've been going easy on it.”

“That's- that's good.” the sailor nodded, clearly struggling for words.

“We… found a few more Hotburples a while back, they don't move far from the smithy. Cassian’s taken to calling them Pippin and Ginger.” he said, to move the conversation along.

An eager spark caught in his father’s eyes, and he bit back a chuckle. He still had a little of that fire but… he wasn't a _young_ man, he couldn't sail forever. Berk wouldn't be such a bad place to retire when the time came. He should… introduce that at some point, just the idea of it, then ask Hiccup. That would need approval and all, they'd need to make space…

“The storms should be done by tomorrow, according to the dragons at least. We’ll get you set up here for the night.” he continued, after a beat.

“According… to the dragons.” his father squinted.

“They can… communicate in a way, if you ask the right questions. Yes or no, that sort of thing.” he shrugged, best to leave it at that.

Dad looked almost _haunted_ for a moment, but quickly cleared his throat.

“I'll, uh… take your word for it.” he muttered.

He worked, his father’s eyes wandered, and after a time he _saw_ the sailor stiffen like a man possessed. Eret followed his eyes to the great hearth on the far wall, above it, where Drago’s arm, bullhook, and Ragnar’s sword hung in a neat row, unmistakable even in the shadows. His father was pale as ice, and his mouth worked soundlessly.

“You- you _really_ did it.” he finally croaked.

“Well, all of Berk yes. Hiccup and Toothless get the most credit.” he shrugged, “Every once and a while I need to come here and look at that, remind myself that it's over.”

Dad nodded solemnly. He of all people would know why.

After a time they set out the borrowed bedrolls on great piles of pine branches for a little cushioning, and Eret sprinted home, nearly blinded by the churning snow. It was so windy the drifts only gathered in corners or against windward walls, but it was _wet_ enough to plaster him head to toe. At least they finished that extension out front, shielding the front door and the entrance to the expanded stable. There was almost enough room now for everyone, since the Wraiths had their own underground burrow in the hill behind the house and the Furies mostly kept to the caves. But Foxglove was pushing it's limits as she just kept _growing_ , shoulders now level with his waist. And she was finally flying thanks to Datura and Nightshade's teaching. He slipped into the lean-to, batting and stomping off as much as he could before _finally_ entering the blessed warmth of his home. Outerwear and boots were shed and put by the hearth to dry and he sat on the edge of their bed to bathe in the heat. Yeah, moving the bed down and the table up was a good idea, he would take all the credit. But, Cassian was still out at the smithy it seemed, so he made some more tea. Sure it got dark early, but it wasn't _that_ late, just about evening. Cass could have his secrets, the surprises would come to light soon enough.

His fiance arrived soon after, half frozen and shivering, hands jammed in his armpits for the warmth. Damn, he really needed to finish the mittens…

“Here, let's get that off you.” he pulled Cass to the fire, easing his arms open.

“I-I do _no-t_ like winter.” he chattered.

“Don't worry, Snotlout’s almost done with all that wool. We’ll have you kitted up properly in no time.” Eret pressed a few kisses to his face and his skin was like ice.

Cassian just shivered harder as the coat came off, and he pulled the offered blanket tight around his shoulders. With his boots kicked away, they bundled together in bed until the shivers subsided.

“So, Dad’s back… got all the way around Angleland. He's already itching for more.” he said.

“Sounds _familiar.”_ Cassian teased, “But, that's good.”

“And… he's already asking after Gobber.”

“I guess I'll have to tell him to put on a clean shirt.” Cass snorted.

“I love the old goat, but that's to _everyone’s_ benefit.” he winced.

“...yes, just a little.”

***  
  


Morning was sullen and grey. It still snowed in fits and starts, but it was no longer a blizzard by any means. Cassian was _still_ freezing, but he had been promised what he needed to survive the season. Long underwear, thick socks, thicker trousers and tunics, a scarf and hat… it was just a matter of surviving until it was ready. At least the furnace kept the smithy warm enough to work on more lenses, he left the crucible to heat all night to make a few batches. The hatch windows were tightly shuttered when they arrived, but by the sound of it Gobber was already up and hammering.

“Oh, wait let's announce ourselves.” he stopped Eret’s hand on the latch.

“Right, right…” he rolled his eyes.

“Gobber?” he called, cracking the door open, “How secret is the work?”

“Very! Off with you!” Gobber barked, “I'll keep an eye on the glass, come back in an hour or two!”

“Alright…” he sighed, “We _do_ have guests for a few days, you should neaten up!”

“Guests- wait, what? _Who?!”_ the smith squawked.

“Take a guess!” Eret teased over his head.

“Why didn't you tell me _sooner?!”_

Something inside crashed. They tried, and mostly failed to muffle their laughter.

“Let's- let's leave him to it.” he wheezed, and dragged Eret away.

They stumbled up the path to the Great Hall, still laughing, hands linked together. Might as well… hang out in the meantime, this _was_ his future father-in-law. They could introduce him to Pippin and Ginger, or- oh, _Foxglove._ He was still close enough to call her, and she answered with sleepy **acknowledgement.** By the time they reached the Great Hall doors, she fluttered down to walk beside them, leaning against his hip as she yawned.

 _“There's_ our girl. You'll never guess who's here!” Eret chuckled.

Foxglove peeped, **question** flickering bright and he supplied the memory of Eret sr. She thrummed with **excitement-** but he cautioned her to be **gentle** , polite. She snorted **acknowledgement** again, rolling her eyes in a far too human fashion.

“Well, we’re getting to the huffy teenage years already.” Eret rolled his eyes with her, and hauled the door open.

The visiting crew had gathered at a far table for breakfast, quiet and a little guarded with the Berkians and dragons already around. Foxglove scuttled ahead, slipping on the cold stone.

“Fox, _no-”_ he huffed, chasing after her.

He grappled her about the neck, bringing her to a stop with a strong tap of **admonishment**. She dropped back on her haunches, whining as he warned her again that they were not **clan** , not from here and they did not know dragons as friends. They had to be **gentle** with these people. Foxglove sighed, returning a more sullen **agreement.** He let her go, and scratched her chin.

“Now be _gentle,_ you aren't so little anymore.” he scolded again.

“Wha- is that the same Deathgripper?” Eret sr. shot up at the far side of the table.

 _“Deathgripper?”_ he barely masked a grimace of disgust.

“Yeah, that's the same ol’ Foxglove. She's flying on her _own_ now.” Eret answered instead.

“Well I'll be…” Eret sr. muttered, and he looked… almost _delighted._

 **Gently,** he warned one last time, **slowly,** with me… he stood and Foxglove followed politely at his side, _bouncing_ with excitement as they rounded the long table. The rest of the crew shifted nervously, murmuring amongst themselves, which he chose to ignore. Eret sr. had stepped away from the bench, watching, _waiting_ as Foxglove sat back on her haunches, pawing eagerly at the ground.

“Lookit _you,_ growing like a weed…” Eret sr. slowly extended his left hand.

Foxglove rolled right into his palm, tail wagging as she gurgled-

Then she stiffened, eyes snapping wide open. She twisted under the man’s hand and nosed at the sleeve of his tunic, whining, and nipped at the cloth when he froze in confusion. **Hurt,** she keened, old hurt and **question.**

“She’s just worried about your arm.” he explained, “The wound you had.”

Eret sr. looked at him strangely for a moment, then rolled his sleeve back, baring the twisted and gnarled scars. Foxglove sniffed him up and down and, once satisfied, reared and butted her whole head into the sailor’s chest, purring thunder. He staggered under her weight and… faintly smiled as he patted her neck. Even the crew seemed cautiously curious, watching over their mugs or around each other’s shoulders.

“So, the smithy is closed for a bit, Gobber has some secret projects. And once _he's_ done, Cass has lenses to work on. Casting glass.” Eret said.

Eret sr. brightened, “Oh, all that weird stuff with the pipes?”

“No _pipes_ today, just molds. I'll show you what it's all for, there are a couple pairs of goggles that are only half-finished.” Cassian answered, “Well, once the smithy is open of course. I'm sure Pippin and Ginger are around somewhere, maybe out back.”

 _“Two_ more of them…” the sailor muttered to himself, almost in awe.

Once the whole crew had finished their meal and bundled back up for the cold, they had free reign to wander the village. So long as they were polite of course, respected boundaries, and didn't pick any fights with the dragons. Simple stuff really. But it seemed to be the most level-headed men left from the original crew, older gentlemen that must've been sailing with Eret sr. for _years._ If nothing else, that spoke well of their respect for their captain, and their willingness to listen. But Eret sr. stuck with them and Foxglove trundled along right at his side. She knew who he was, who he was to _Eret,_ and seemed to accept him as **kin** just the same. Dragons really were incredible.

Hammer still rang on anvil in the smithy and Eret practically had to _drag_ his father away from the door, around the back, to where the Hotburples lay. Ginger, rust-red, lay on his back in a snowdrift and emerald-green Pippin had flopped right over him. They weren't _truly_ asleep, and Pippin cracked one eye open at his **hello,** looking to Eret sr. at his prompting, he was their **guest.** She sniffed, sniffed again, and perked slowly, both eyes opening.

“Well, how about that.” Cassian grinned, and nudged Eret sr. forward, “Go on, introduce yourself.”

Pippin watched him approach, huge head tilting as **curiosity** rang about her clear as a bell. Eret sr. gently brushed the back of his fingers up the dragon’s soft nose and she thrilled, **delight** blooming with every flutter of her ears. Pippin drew in a deep breath, snuffling his offered hand and arm, humming low.

“Well, _he's_ got a bit more spark. That sandy fellow was, eh…” Eret sr. chuckled.

“Pippin is female.” he gently corrected, “But, yes. You _have_ piqued her interest.”

“Oh. Would that be her mate down below then?” he peered under the dragon’s wing.

“No, her _twin._ They hatched from the same egg.”

Eret sr. stared for a quiet moment of utter bafflement.

“They're _adults,_ how could you know that? Didn't you just find them?”

He shrugged, “They told me, as their parents told them.”

“Wha- _yeek!”_ Eret sr. jumped back with a yelp when Pippin slurped his whole hand into her mouth.

Eret ducked in close to whisper, “The dragonspeak might be a _bit_ too much for now.”

Oh, yes it probably would be. His father was only just warming up to dragons in general, knowing they could _speak_ would beggar belief. At least Pippin was a distraction as she wobbled off her brother in pursuit, even managing a few sedate flutters of her wings.

 _“Boys_ what's she doing?” the sailor backed away another few steps, almost hiding behind them.

“Dad, she _likes_ you. They can hardly see, so they lick things.” Eret rolled his eyes.

“What is going _on_ out-” the back door flung open and Gobber froze, eyes bulging.

Eret sr. stared and Pippin took the opening to plow him into a snowbank after building some momentum. Gobber almost collapsed in on himself, laughing too hard to even make a sound. Eret buried his face in his hands, sighing long and deep.

Gobber finished soon enough, and that glass needed pouring. Eret helped get the paddles, buckets, and dippers ready, and he already had the shelves set up in the cooling cave. Gobber’s new apprentices left them plenty of ring molds, hung up to heat over the forge. He snuck a glance back from his tools and found Eret sr. sitting quietly out of the way, watching intently… when he wasn't sneaking looks across the room at Gobber hammering away. Their smith, to his credit, _had_ put on a nicer shirt, only a little sooty and singed around the hems, and washed his face by the looks of it. But, he wouldn't interfere any, they were grown men and could do as they pleased. Maybe… a little nudge, if it was necessary. But only a nudge.

They worked hard, filled up the cooling racks, and sealed it up to temper overnight. A good batch, 40 lenses for a whole new line of goggles. The design did need a bit of slimming down for the sake of time and materials, but they would work just the same. Now, they could cut more of the pieces, since they had some help.

“Eret- _senior.”_ he added when both men looked, “I have a few sets of goggles in that crate behind you, if you could grab that for me please. Gobber-”

He had turned, then froze when a familiar chime and rattle of scales came from the far side of the room. But the grace of God, Eret had his back turned. Gobber noticed too quickly grappled his fiance away and around the corner, while he scrambled around the table and gently pressed the half-finished mantle back into it's box, _admittedly_ right next to the one he meant.

“What is _this?”_ Eret sr. gasped, still running his hands over the scales.

 _“Shh,_ it's a secret!” he hissed, barely a whisper, “I can show you later, when we get Eret out.”

Eret sr. blinked, then his eyes widened in realization. Cassian nodded, then threw a tarp over the box and grabbed the right one, hoisting it over to the table.

“All clear Gobber!” he called.

Eret stomped back, flushed with indignation, “I thought all your little secrets were put away.”

“So did I, looks like I missed one.” he chuckled, “I'll raid the scrap bin, you two can get cutting. We need enough for 20 sets, so cut carefully.”

They worked in comfortable silence for a time, cutting piece after piece from the master copies. And still, Eret sr. snuck glances up and over and between them. Once he was sure Gobber was out of earshot on a search for something, he leaned further forward.

“You _can_ talk to him you know.” he said, simple but pointed.

Eret sr. flushed all the way up to his ears, looking as guilty as a cat with the cream.

“I- couldn't, he can't _stand_ me.” he muttered.

“Tempers _did_ run a little high before.” he agreed, “But, Gobber is a protective soul. He was only worried on Eret’s behalf, and he's… cautiously optimistic these days.”

Eret’s father nodded bashfully and Gobber soon returned, so he let the subject drop. But, to _his_ luck, Eret was needed elsewhere for some task or another and Foxglove left with him. Only then did he retrieve the pieces of the cloak, laying them out in proper order on the table, and Eret sr. marveled at it all. But when he set out the wolf pelt, the sailor stopped, suddenly looking unsure, _conflicted._

“Now, uh… where did _this_ come from?” Eret sr. asked, voice tight.

“We went hunting down south, part of the northeast coast of Angleland. This one was poisoned with something, frothing and mad with it, and it was going to attack another den. They had pups, and I… I couldn’t let that happen. It was over quickly, and we burned the body so it couldn't make anything else ill.” he explained.

Tension unwound from the man’s shoulders, and he nodded slowly. 

“We’ve… lost touch with a lot of our culture, over the years. But some things I've tried to keep close. Don't take more than you need, and thank the right spirits for what you do, otherwise the bounty won't return… Not bad rules to live by.” Eret sr. shrugged.

“No, that… that is wise.” he agreed. 

“It's life was already over, you were just keeping the balance. Sometimes, that's what needs to be done.” Eret sr. sighed, running a thumb over the mantle, “And, the scales?”

“Oh, _those_ the dragons shed by the barrel. We collect them from the grooming station every few days, they do appreciate a good scrub.” that would probably be more to his tastes, because… he wanted to _impress_ his father-in-law.

Datura arrived eventually, now so large she had trouble wedging herself in through the front door. She was nearly half Toothless’s length, if not more, but long and unwieldy in the wings and legs. **Curiosity** then **recognition** followed the ripple of her auricles, and she wiggled her way around the table to sniff Eret sr. from a polite distance.

“Yeah, I remember you too. Look how _big_ you've gotten…” he smiled and offered a hand.

“You should see her _mother,_ she's near triple her size. They have the same colors, but the rest of their clan is different in that regard.” Cassian stretched, _heavens_ his back ached.

As he stood, a faint thrum of **where** brushed past his ears, Lantana’s voice. Datura likewise snapped to attention, freezing mid-lick with her tongue hanging out as they answered in unison, **here**. Snow crunched outside and Lantana’s disgruntled whine brought her daughter to the door, pawing to go back out. 

“Well, there she is. Come, you should say hello.” he chuckled, “Datura will _make_ you if you don't.”

The Light Fury threw her head back for a long, annoyed whine, until he opened the door for her and Eret Sr. followed behind, peeking out cautiously. Lantana welcomed her daughter’s headbutt-greeting, then his quick scratch, but she sniffed, then _prickled._ Slowly, she turned to look into the smithy, pupils drawn to slivers.

 **Recognition** roared around her and through him so sudden and sharp he swayed, stumbling against Datura’s shoulder.

“Eh, what's that look for?” Eret sr. asked nervously, frozen with one foot out the door.

Damnit, there was no other way to explain, and no way to make it _not_ sound crazy.

“She _knows_ you. I don't know how, but-” he winced, begged for **quiet-**

Lantana shuddered, quashing her voice but a memory remained; a man, _Eret sr._ in a time long past, no older than Cassian was now and- oh, oh God Eret’s _mother,_ in the prime of her life, glowing with a smile so familiar it threatened to tear his heart in two. It was just them, walking, until Eret sr. chased after something, leaving his wife to shake her head fondly. Through Lantana, _their_ eyes met and she froze in fear… but not for long. Lantana could _hear_ her as a dragonvoice, though the woman could not understand them in turn. Eret sr. returned too soon and they hid, the two left, but his mother, _Einna_ met them there again and again, over _years,_ even when she was round and heavy with child. They _felt_ Eret kick when they pressed their cheek to Einna’s belly, they _heard_ Einna’s screams from afar and a baby’s first cough- but no crying, no it was something like a _laugh_ , that tent radiated **joy** they couldn't even begin to describe. Einna brought Eret to them soon after, wrinkly and swaddled up to his button-nose, though he was too young yet to react to the meeting. All too soon he was walking, running, _squealing_ as he played with their frills…

_His face was wet, was he crying? And what was that noise-_

Lantana had to leave, her whole clan did. There were too many humans, not enough caves. But she met Einna and Eret one last time, they all _flew_ together and… they returned to the caves. It was dark, so dark, and cold…

_“Someone get Eret! Come on lad, wake up-”_

  
***

Eret found himself perched on a roof, helping replace a few shingles that had failed in the night and he hadn't even been up there an hour when Datura shot by _screaming,_ a sound that froze his heart solid. Gods, she'd _never_ made a sound like that, what- She fell from the sky, grappling him around the shoulders and she was damn near big enough to carry him away like that. But, not quite, not yet, and he wasn't keen on falling again.

“Off, _off_ let me get myself down!” he grunted.

He wrestled away and slid down the ladder, sprinting after the dragon that still _screamed_ and half the village looked after them. Around the corner he spotted Gobber and his father charging away from the smithy, towards home, and they carried _Cassian_ between them. No, no what _now-_

Choking on his own heart, he followed, bursting in behind them just as they eased Cass onto the bed. He was ashen, blood still sluiced down his face and he was deathly still. He scrambled for rags, pressing a few to Cassian’s nose as he gently tilted his head up, forward- gods, there was blood _everywhere,_ all over the fur and scales…

“What _happened?”_ he rasped.

“He- he just _dropped!”_ his father shook like a leaf.

“No before that. He _said_ something.” Gobber prodded.

“That dragon, the big one, she looked at me funny and he said she _knew_ me.” Dad swallowed hard, “Son, what is he talking about? They can't _speak-_ ”

“They _can.”_ he muttered, “He hears them. There's no telling what he saw, it's- its _never_ been this bad. We just… have to wait until he wakes up.”

He shook, _straining_ to keep his voice level.

“Can you- I just need a minute, to clean him up.”

Gobber steered his father out, and closed the door behind them. He let out a weak breath, it _burned_ in his throat, and his hands shook as he cleaned Cassian as best he was able. He eased the coat off, then boots, setting all that aside. Hopefully the coat wasn't beyond salvaging, it- it was _important._ A few more pillows propped Cassian up, he piled the blankets high, took his hand… and waited. Gods, he was so _still,_ only a thumb against his pulse was any reassurance. 

“Cass…” he croaked, “What the _hell’ve_ you done to yourself this time?”

It might've been an hour later when a knock came at the door, and someone mumbled permission to enter, he wasn't paying enough attention to care. Cassian still hadn’t moved, made a sound. Had it finally been too much? Had it _broken_ something in him? Would- would he-

A chair scraped across the floor, so sudden and sharp he jolted, and his father sat beside him, drawn and pale and _haunted._ This… probably looked a little too familiar.

“He can… _talk_ to dragons.” Dad said, almost a whisper.

He nodded, only once.

“...you believe him?”

“Yes.” his voice cracked, “I’d bet my life that he could tell you something he _shouldn't_ know, if he saw through Lantana’s eyes.”

His father started to say something, maybe protest, but closed his mouth and nodded. 

The sun set, dinner came and went, and he only moved at his Father’s prodding to eat, drink… then went right back to his vigil. Cassian still breathed slow and even, his eyes grew treacherously tired, lids heavy, he almost missed those cold fingers tightening in his. Almost.

“Cass?” he cried, _“Cassian-”_

Cassian’s hand twitched again, his breath stuttered then he _gasped,_ cracking one eye open, then the other, his lips parted, dry and soundless-

“Here, here you need to drink.”

He pulled Cass upright, holding the cup his father passed over to his lips. It took time, but Cassian drained it sip by sip, finding the strength to twine their hands tight. With a little shifting, he kicked off his boots and crawled into bed behind Cassian as a solid wall of support, the contact enough to ground them both. There was no hiding the tremors in his arms, the thundering of his heart. Cass was _okay._ But Dad still had that expectant look and dazed as he was, Cassian noticed, just _knowing._

“Lantana knew your wife- mother- _Einna.”_ he huffed, grinding a knuckle into one eye, “She _showed_ me, and… Eret. When he was born, he didn't cry. He coughed a few times, but then he _laughed._ It was late, but the sun was still high, like Midsum-”

Cass stopped short and smacked his arm weakly.

_“What?!”_

“You let me _skip over_ your birthday?” Cass somehow had the spark to scold him.

Shattering ceramic brought that thought to a halt. His father lifted a shaking hand to his mouth and he _wept,_ tears flowing free as he struggled to breathe. Wait. Lantana… had somehow witnessed his _birth?_ She was that old? What else had she-

“You three flew together, before she left. It wasn't safe for her clan there anymore. You couldn't have been more than two…” Cass continued, squeezing his hand, “Lantana could hear her the same way she hears you, I could _see_ it through her eyes. She- _God_ she loved you so much, more than _life-”_

Cassian’s chest heaved with a sob and they folded into each other, clinging tight as tears burned his eyes blind. After all this time, _how?_ How, in all the endless miles of the earth had they come together not once, but _twice?_ He trusted Cass, of course he did, but his father’s reaction left no doubt. Lantana had been there from the very beginning, for as long as she could. For his mother, for _him…_ If only they had _known,_ he never would’ve… never would have met Cass, or found Lantana again. For better or worse, it happened for a reason, and they had to move forward. His mother _lived on_ in more than one memory and it did burn a little bitter that he couldn't see it for himself. But, Cass could tell him all about it, and _he_ deserved to know too. Their lives were as one now.

They cried, for a good long while, until his face ached and his throat burned. But… it was a good ache, he felt _lighter_ somehow. Gobber swung by for a moment and reluctantly accepted a promise of ‘later’ while he helped his father to his feet. Dad was well and truly shaken, and he didn't think twice about scrambling out of bed and grappling the old man into a hug that sent joints cracking. They both needed it, and they could talk the rest out tomorrow. After, Gobber escorted his father back to the Great Hall, gently patting his shoulder. They should clean up a little more, maybe see if they could fix his coat-

It was draped over the back of the chair his father had taken, already clean, nearly _spotless_. How, _when?_ Fatigue dragged at his shoulders, eyes, sapped his will to move. That would have to wait till tomorrow, like so many other things. He poured more tea for the both of them, swept up the shards of the dropped cup, then slotted himself back into bed. Cassian was cold, too cold, and gladly curled into his side and around the steaming mug. The quiet, the low crackle of the fire, it was enough to find his balance again, get centered, think…

“You were out, for a really long time…” he murmured.

Cassian’s breath hitched, “I- I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself. I had to _see._ She _knew_ the both of you, she heard your first breaths…”

He sniffled, but cracked a small smile.

“You were a dragon rider before _Hiccup_ was even born.”

“Maybe we don't brag too much about that, can't steal the chief’s thunder.” he sighed, almost a laugh, and kissed Cassian’s brow.

“I'm sorry…” Cass apologized again.

“Tomorrow, you don't have to _break_ yourself for this. We don't have to know everything, right this second. Take it one step at a time.” he pressed a few more kisses wherever he could reach.

Cass nodded slowly, frown deepening, “I… didn't get the chance to tell her, she doesn't know your mother is-”

He choked, lips pressing together hard.

“I'll tell her. It'll be a shock, so you should try to keep your guard up.”

“Yes…”

Morning came and he woke to find Lantana pacing around the house, mewling desperately at the windows. Well, he should've expected that… At least it was a surprisingly nice day, sunny and slightly-less frigid. He wiggled out of bed, tucked the blankets back around Cassian, and plodded to the window. It stuck a bit in the frame, but he jimmied the glass panel up enough to get the outer shutters open and Lantana immediately tried to shove her head inside. The familiarity was enough to bring out a smile as he scratched her chin.

“Easy, you won’t fit in.” he gave her another pat, “We’re just waking up, give us a minute, yeah?”

She whined, but licked his palm and backed herself out of the window so he could close it against the cold. She still watched as he stoked the fire, started breakfast, and set their boots and coats closer to the hearth to warm. Cassian woke with some prodding and a few kisses, immediately looking to the window, where Lantana thrilled.

“Careful…” Eret murmured, dropping another kiss on his brow.

“Yes, just telling her we’ll be ready soon.” Cass yawned, “And… she's sorry she didn't recognize you sooner. But I reminded her you've grown so much since then.”

“Yeah, I'm not knee-high anymore.” he shook his head, “But, you're feeling alright?”

Cass nodded, “Head aches, but I'm probably just thirsty. And yes, I won't strain myself.”

Always reading his damn mind…

“Good. Come on, let's get ready before Tana pulls a wall down.” he tugged at Cassian’s hand.

 _“Yes_ my love…”

Lantana barely let them get out the door in her rush to meet them outside, he had to push her back a step, then two, and finally hugged her tight, sniffling already. She didn't _know…_

“Yeah, I- I miss her too.” he stroked her scales, “Tana, she's gone. Been gone a long time.”

The dragon trembled under him as Cassian clung to her other side, murmuring… and they both flinched when Lantana keened, quiet but broken. She almost _sobbed,_ breath hitching between cries as she folded them under her wings. Cass must've elaborated…

“It's okay Tana…” he squeezed tighter, “Thank you, for being her friend.”

She still shook and swayed, but when he reached over her back Cassian took his hand, squeezing in reassurance. Good, good… He murmured words of comfort he didn't even think about, holding tight until the worst had passed and Lantana unwound herself from them.

“She’s sorry, for your loss.” Cassian said under her neck.

“Thank you…” he said again, “I… have no memory of her. It's nice, knowing someone else does. Remembers _both_ of us… It's just a shame I can't see it from you, that fancy way.”

Lantana sighed, leaning into his shoulder.

“She could hear your mother the same as you…” Cass frowned, “Maybe, try going over a memory, something she couldn't know. Just, let it play through your head.”

Well, with Cass interpreting they could test out what he was capable of, couldn't they? Perhaps… that sunrise in the Shetlands, how Cassian had burned like an ember in the light. Even now it made his heart skip a beat. That may well have been the moment he fell in love, though he didn't know it. _Wouldn't_ know it for a good long while. Lantana thrummed under him, and Cass’s grip tightened.

“...that long?” he asked, barely a whisper.

“What?”

Cassian ducked under the Light Fury’s neck and into his arms, already open for him.

“I could _see_ it, that's- that's really how you saw me? I was just being an idiot on a boat-”

He chuckled, and pulled Cass closer, “I saw down to your _soul_ then, and I was a doomed man. The rest came naturally, it's… there _are_ no words that could ever describe that morning.”

Cassian nodded against his neck and for a moment all was quiet, until Lantana chirped.

“Oh… we _should_ check on your father. And Gobber will be worried…” Cass frowned.

“Right. Let's get going… Gobber first though, Dad’s gonna need more time.”

“Yes… All _this_ must be a shock.” Cass agreed.

The smithy was quiet, and Gobber didn't seem to be home, Grump and the Hotburple twins weren't either. Strange… but they moved on to the Great Hall. It was still early, so the village was quiet and after the mess of yesterday that was a blessing. Once in the Hall, the mystery was solved. All three Hotburples lay in a pile before the center hearth and Gobber sat slumped over Grump’s neck, snoring as loud as his dragon. Dad was laid back against Pippin’s side and someone else had draped a blanket over him, because it certainly wasn't one of _his._ Well, how about that…

“Damn, Gobber moves _fast.”_ he snickered.

Cassian swatted his arm, “Don't you tease them.”

“Okay, okay…” he raised his hands in surrender.

Lantana slunk around them, creeping closer to his father and sniffing his boots, hands… then nudged under his cheek, chirping softly. It took a few tries but he stirred, and jolted awake with a snort when the Fury almost pushed him over.

“‘M up, ‘m up.” he groaned, scrubbing his face, “Mor- woah!”

Lantana pressed her whole head into Dad’s chest and he scrabbled at her neck for purchase when he almost fell again. Bewildered, he stared at them over her wiggling ear-flaps. 

“She remembers you too.” Cassian explained, crossing to them, “And, she misses Einna, very much.”

His father’s face fell, and he scratched lightly along the dragon’s jaw.

“Thank you lass… And thank you, for _knowing_ her. Too many people were robbed of the chance. She was… she was something special.” he sniffled, and hugged her tight.

Lantana rubbed her chin back and forth over Dad’s head, purring weak and low, and Eret finally joined them. But Pippin was stirring. She cracked one eye open and snorted, lurching to her feet. Without her support, Dad fell flat with a startled squawk as the Hotburple rounded, glaring the Light Fury down. Lantana just wrinkled her nose, thoroughly unimpressed.

 _“Ladies,_ please, there's more than enough Eret for both of you.” he quickly forced himself between them.

“Whatin’ Thor’s name-” his father grunted.

Pippin shifted and her huge tail knocked into Grump’s backside, startling him awake. And as his head snapped up, he flung Gobber off with a garbled shout.

“Stop! Stop it, the both of you!” Dad barked, scrambling to his feet.

The dragons froze and his father skirted Grump’s head to help Gobber to his feet. Eret nudged Cassian, gesturing towards them with a flick of his eyes. They made themselves look busy with the dragons but watched in stolen peeks and glances.

“Well, that's _one_ way to wake u- _ack!”_ Gobber jerked, back hunching through a spasm.

“Are- are you hurt?” Dad hovered, almost scared to touch.

“Jus’ an old complaint, slept funny.” Gobber huffed.

“Your back..?”

“Yeah, ain’t the viking I used to be.” the smith sighed.

“Can you stand up a little straighter? I… know a trick, if you'll forgive me.”

Gobber nodded and made his best effort, while his father moved behind him.

“Alright, cross your arms over your chest… a little more, so your elbows touch, good. Now, take the deepest breath you can and when I lift, _exhale.”_

“Wha-”

Dad wrapped his arms under Gobber’s and hauled him straight up, then leaned back. Gobber wheezed, his eyes bulged, and his back crackled like spring ice. Eret, Cassian, _and_ the dragons winced. When the cracking stopped, the smith was set back down and he staggered a step, still wide-eyed in shock. Then he straightened, twisted back and forth from the waist and huffed a startled laugh.

 _“Thor_ I haven't been able to move like this in years!” he cheered.

Dad just watched, almost _bashfully_ as he scratched the back of his neck. Well, they might just be getting somewhere more… amicable, at the very least. Lantana slunk out from under his hands and nipped at the back of his father’s tunic, tugging him towards the door.

“Easy now Tana, let ‘em get ready for the day.” he chased after, gently prising her jaws open.

She pouted, auricles folding flat.

“Why don't you go get the _rest_ of the pack?” Cassian said, giving her a nudge.

“There are _more?”_ Dad gasped, “Well, more than the two.”

 _“Many_ more. Go on, at _least_ get lil’ Crush-”

Lantana grumbled and stomped back to the door, nosing her way out. Pippin snorted in contempt, fluttered into the air, and _charged_ at his father.

“Now, don't be like that- Hey! No, don't _lay_ on him!”

  
***

By the time they were done, the Light Fury clan met them on the way to the smithy and the hatchlings peeled off after Datura to surround them all. The other nestmates had grown enormously, but Datura was still larger by a margin and **concern** followed her like a shadow. Cassian caught her and squeezed her tight, he was **well, safe…** he would be okay. She whined, but shared the memory of Lantana, Einna and baby Eret flying together. She'd told them..? A soft chorus of **affirmation** answered, and the rest of the young Furies milled around Eret, and his father.

“Oh, _lookit_ them all…” Eret sr. said breathlessly.

“You do that, _I_ need to steal Eret for a bit. Eh, _this_ Eret.” Gobber tugged his fiance away by the elbow, “You two are banned! For now anyway.”

Eret rolled his eyes and let Gobber lead him away, waving over his shoulder. Lantana coiled around him and Eret sr., coaxing them both toward the cliffs, to **fly.**

“She wants to go flying. I'll ride with Scarab but… here, let me show you.”

Lantana crouched and he helped Eret sr. settle over her shoulders, clinging with his knees and the whole length of his hands and forearms. He leapt onto Scarab and the Furies walked carefully to the cliffs where they fell smoothly into open air. The younglings trailed behind them, all radiating **joy** and Lantana… it was more like **honor,** for the memory of her friend. They coasted along the cliffs, gently for Eret sr.’s sake, and he looked to be… at peace. He was _connecting_ with a secret part of Einna’s life, one of the last wisps of her legacy that would live on in his son, and now Lantana’s children too. But, he would certainly want to know more. At a nice, quiet stretch of cliff, he **asked** the Furies to land and they cleared a swathe of ground with a few sweeps of their tails. _He_ wasn't about to sit in the snow. 

“I'm sure you have questions.” he said, as Eret sr. joined him on the ground.

“...a few.” he agreed, “You… can speak with them?”

“In a way, and it's not with _words_ as such. It's ideas, feelings, even _memories_ sometimes. That's what Lantana showed me, that is how I could _see_ all of them together. But… it is not without risk, their voices can be too strong. It's happened before, where I've been overwhelmed, fainted… But never that long.” Cassian sighed, “Delving too deep, too long like I did was stupid, but I couldn't help myself. I could see pieces of him in her, she's not _gone._ She never was _,_ not really. Her smile, that quirk of her brow, even the way she _carried_ herself… it all lives on in him.”

Eret sr. sniffled, and Lantana leaned against his shoulder.

“And I was too blind to see it.” he croaked, “I know, that I'm asking so much of him to give me a chance but- for _her,_ I want to at least try to make up for where I failed.”

He bit his lip, unsure of how much to say. Perhaps, just a nudge in the right direction.

“He _does_ want to rebuild what was lost, but it won't happen in one day. He has to un-learn what he has come to expect from you, one step at a time.” he offered, “Half the battle is forgiving _yourself,_ and recognizing your faults, growing from that…”

Eret sr. smiled as tears pricked his eyes, “You're wise beyond your years.”

“Sometimes… life forces you to adapt, and introspection takes you a long way. I also have much to atone for back home.” he swallowed down the lump in his throat, “I left without a word, I never gave my family a _chance_ to hear me. Maybe nothing would’ve changed, but I still denied them that.”

“So… they were rough on you.”

“In a way. My other siblings were favored, my father always looked at me like I _robbed_ him of something. He said for years there was this ‘important story’ to tell me, but every time I asked he brushed me off. ‘When you're older’, ‘not now’, ‘next year’... I got tired of waiting, being forgotten. I should've pressed harder, _demanded_ answers if it was so important.”

He snatched a stone from the ground and hurled it off the cliff, huffing in frustration. The Furies rippled with **concern** and a heavy hand settled on his shoulder.

“I won't pretend to know your story but… if they truly cared? When you go back, they would listen. You can only try.” Eret sr. said, halting and slow, “Either way, you've got one _hell_ of a life up here.”

“I do.” he agreed, “And that's all thanks to your son.”

“I've heard _that_ is quite the story.”

“So it was.” he cracked a smile, “It all started with an unfortunate case of mistaken identity, some stir-crazy defenders of the Shetlands, and a _very_ convenient storm…”

“So, 31 days after high spring?” Eret sr. checked, hoisting his pack.

“So long as the weather allows. But you should try to get here a few days before then, just in case we have to adjust for the weather.” Cassian said.

The weather _today_ was stable enough for them to move on safely, so they had to take the chance. The ship had been moved for them, and sat moored down at the docks as the crew got it ready. Though, some of the men seemed reluctant to go, _especially_ Eret sr., and Pippin had been tailing him all week. Even now, she parked on his heels, rumbling **sadness.** The sailor sighed, and crouched to give the Hotburple a good pat.

“Don't you worry, I'll be back soon enough.” he promised, “So, we’ve got some plans to keep us busy until then. Fill our holds with goodies to trade _way_ down south, and we’ll stop here along the way.”

“Good idea. And… stay safe out there.” Eret offered his hand.

His father shook firmly, and froze in shock when Eret pulled him in for a proper hug. They both sniffed faintly, patted each other’s backs, and when they parted Cassian swept in to do the same. Eret sr. chuckled, squeezing him about the shoulders until something in his spine _popped_ and he went stiff.

“Oof, I _felt_ that one. Here, turn around, cross your arms-”

He shuffled in place and Eret sr. hauled him off his feet, cracking every bone in his back. It didn't _hurt_ but he still staggered when his feet hit the ground again, straightening with a strangled groan. _God_ that felt good.

“So… I'll be off. Don't have too much fun without me.” Eret sr. sighed, and his brows pinched.

He and Eret shared a glance, and stepped in together for one last hug. His almost-father-in-law drew a quiet, hitching breath, looping his arms around their necks.

“Oh, my boys…” he rasped, barely above a whisper.

Eret sr. finally extricated himself, made the long walk down the pier, and the ship set sail. The Stormcutter and Fury flocks set off to fly with them, coasting along on every side of the ship as they turned northeast. They watched from the cliffs until the sails vanished beyond the horizon, and the dragons returned.


	23. Chapter 23

The preparations were ready, _finally._ All the food for the feast was gathered and hunted, some from far off lands, the decorations and wedding raiments were complete, the gifts were piled into the Great Hall, and Gothi held the banner in wait. The dragons helped clear the snow from the stairs to the Great Hall, the plaza around it's doors, plus a path between the Haddock and Hofferson homes. The ceremony itself would be at the foot of Stoick’s statue, after which they would _immediately_ retreat to the hall because no matter how sunny it was, it was barely after Dreadfall and it was bitterly cold. At least Cassian had the proper clothes now, though in the heat of the cooking fires he was just fine in his red scaled tunic. He’d never tell Snotlout, but his fiance looked _damn_ good in red. Eret sighed, and tore his eyes away to get back to work. The families would be getting the royal couple ready, all morning most likely, so the rest of the village would be cooking. A whole _elk_ and three more deer had been roasting around the central hearth since the wee hours, plus sweet and savory pies, shellfish steamed in ale, roasted vegetables and fish, stews and mountains of bread… There almost wasn't enough _room_ to cook it all, even with three hearths blazing. He took turns with the others basting the roasts with their own fat and melted butter with thick bundles of herbs while Terrors ran in wheels to keep the spits turning with gears and belts and chains. He snuck glances across the Hall, to where Cass had been left to bake, and bake, and bake…

By mid-afternoon, all was ready. They bundled back into their coats, hats, gloves, and filed out to the square, down the stairs, wherever they would fit with Gobber and Valka keeping the chaos moving. Gothi waited at the statue’s pedestal, the only area left wide open, where Valka and Astrid’s parents took their places a few steps back, and the crowd turned as one to look down the path, dead silent. Even the dragons perched all over the rooftops and central peak didn't make a sound. Cassian’s hand found his, holding tight, though it was awkward through the bulk of two pairs of mittens. Toothless and Stormfly shot out of the cover of the trees to the homes of their riders, and the gathering murmured. _This_ didn't seem like what they expected, but should they really be surprised? The dragons returned with the couple moments later, but they didn't come straight to the hill. They looped back over Berk, swooping, soaring, spinning wing to wing until a lady-Fury and a dashing green Nadder joined them. Their mates? Probably. But all four finally landed at the foot of the stairs and the riders dismounted, linked their arms, and climbed upwards. And they _shone_ even from afar with the force of their smiles, hardly able to tear their eyes off each other long enough to get where they needed to go. Hiccup had the foundations of a proper beard now, and Astrid wore her hair long and free, both crowned with wreaths of mistletoe and flowers. Gems glinted in the clasps of their cloaks, the cuffs on their wrists, all from _their_ clever work.

The couple took their place at the foot of the statue, and he could see Valka desperately trying not to cry. Hiccup and Astrid wound their hands together, raising them high as Gothi draped the long banner over them. As the cloth looped over and over, he caught peeks of what may well have been Stoick and Valka, then Nadders and Night Furies, Hiccup and Astrid themselves… The ceremony was sealed with a kiss and the cheers of man and dragon alike shook snow from the rooftops. He gave Cassian’s hand a squeeze, sneaking a glance over, smiling soft-

Cassian jolted, stumbling and falling into his side while Gobber chuckled behind him. What? They crowd was suddenly silent and when he looked left, Hiccup and Astrid were mere steps away, unwinding their banner. With a sly, shared smile, they tossed the cloth over _their_ heads so it settled around their shoulders. The silence lasted another beat, and the cheers began anew. Gobber still giggled to himself, while Hiccup and Astrid had themselves a breathless laugh.

“Well, congrats on the engagement!” Hiccup said, taking his banner back.

He ducked closer, whispering, “We were already engaged, what’s-”

Hiccup and Astrid both whipped to glare at Gobber.

“You didn't _tell_ them?” she hissed.

“Of _course_ I-” Gobber froze mid-protest, eyes bulging in horror.

_“Gobber!”_

“It… _may_ have slipped my mind…” the smith scuffed his peg-leg in the dirt.

He and Cass shared a glance, equally baffled while Hiccup kneaded his eyes.

 _“Okay,_ what Gobber neglected to mention is- the current wedding passes the torch to the next, and _that_ makes the engagement official.” the chief shook his head, “Traditionally anyway. Nowadays it's more for reminding folks of the schedule, keeping events in order.”

“...that's alright? I suppose.” Cassian shrugged.

The whole village was already filtering back into the Hall, so they mingled with the flow to escape the cold. But they still stole confused looks. He had no doubt Gobber just forgot, but what was everyone cheering for? Did they not _know?_ They weren't exactly subtle, Gobber must not’ve been kidding when he said folks minded their own business. He just hoped this wouldn't turn their wedding into a spectacle. 

For now, they feasted, they danced, and Cassian brought half the room to tears with a song _he_ didn't know, but everyone else seemed to. Valka especially, she needed to sit down for a long moment. He… would check after her later. The gifts were revealed once everyone was too tired to keep dancing, and he hadn’t even known Cass could dance, and so _beautifully._ To be fair, he was usually stuck playing. But the table was piled so high with the crafts of the whole village it was hard to make sense of it all. Ornate chests, quilts and other bedclothes, a _stunning_ battleaxe and broadsword… Hiccup had the audacity to give him grief for only making _one_ boot, all in jest of course, and Gobber almost fell of his bench laughing. Astrid adored her slippers, and they both graciously accepted the promise of more from afar. But one more item was revealed, with a flourish of cloth: a cradle, full of swaddling clothes and everything else they would need for the baby the whole village knew was coming. Cassian's shoulders slumped ever-so-slightly under his arm, and he pressed a quick kiss to his temple. Foxglove or not, that was still a sore point. But they shoved that to the back of their minds, that wasn't what this night was for. The happy couple eventually made their escape, and everyone pretended to not know why, focusing instead on cleaning, packing away food…

  
***

The cloak was _so nearly done,_ and the bracers were complete, though he always seemed to run out of silver and gold scales. Someone was nicking them, he was sure of it. Snotlout helped when he could between his own projects, and the mantle was so wide they could easily work opposite each other on the table. He'd really come around since the trip seeming… more at peace with himself. He was still a little proud of course, and forceful with his corrections as they worked, but not _nearly_ so abrasive and the other riders were noticing. They willingly sought him out, more and more often, he _smiled_ more, and more easily… But the nights were growing longer, and the _longest_ night would soon be upon them.

The last sunrise of the year came and went and Arvundil’s Fire took it's place, lighting the sky blue and green and crimson until the sun returned. Within days, a great cry rocked the island, a primal **call** that left him dizzy and the dragons rose as one, turning southeast to the Rookery. Some remained, like Crucible, Andarax, the Furies and Rumblehorns, the young, the old, and the mateless, perhaps a third of the flock in total. It still left Berk shockingly quiet, but they all busied themselves with preparations for Snoggletog and he _thrummed_ with excitement. Tyrian and Nightshade had _gone._ Grump and Pippin too, Cloudjumper and Sunset and the rest of the Stormcutters had gone to the Rookery, and soon they would return. With _babies._ Sure they wouldn't be back until well after the holiday, maybe as much as a fortnight, but that was still much sooner than they would naturally move their young. 

Foxglove and the Light clan were absolutely enthralled by all the activity and tried their best to help with the decorating, to limited success. Datura and Foxglove… G _od_ how they had grown. Both were well over half the size of their parents, pushing _20 feet_ from nose to tail, though half of that was actual tail. But, there was something _curious_ about Fox, in comparison to Nightshade. She seemed longer in the limbs, leaner, less armored. Maybe she was still growing, or maybe she was a species apart from her ‘auntie’, close but not _exactly_ the same. Time would tell. 

When the dragons returned in force, it was like a whole new holiday. The flock split apart and sprinted after their riders, all carrying their young on their backs, or in their horns, even in their _mouths_ which was a little unnerving to see with the Gronckles going by. He waited, tucked under Erets arm, hardly able to _breathe_ for the anticipation. The cold and flurries of snow didn't help matters either. There were still plenty of dragons trailing in at the back of the migration of course, it wasn't over. He spotted the Hotburples and Stormcutters at one point, and maybe-Stormfly, but… still no Tyrian. Eret rubbed his shoulder.

“I'm sure they're okay, just give them time…” he murmured.

“Foxglove wasn't the strongest hatchling, maybe they just aren't fit to travel yet.” Cassian said, more to himself.

Eret hummed, hugged him tight, and almost said something else when a frantic, **joyous** cry sent them both flinching. Tyrian dove, still squealing, and landed hard on the snowy path only to slip and slide on hidden ice right past them, toppling into a snowdrift with an aborted squawk. Laughter bent him almost double, left him breathless, and Eret was no better. Tyrian flailed out of the snow, shook himself off, and more _carefully_ trotted back to them, gently pressing into his chest. He hugged the Nadder tight with an appalling sniffle.

“Where- where’s Nightshade?” he finally gasped.

Tyrian purred, giving off a sense of **coming** but **slow**. He must've raced ahead then.

“She's okay, she's coming.” he said aloud, sagging against his dragon.

“Good…” Eret went back to scanning the skies.

Foxglove hooted from the stable, scrambling out so fast she nearly knocked Tyrian’s legs out from under him. They both had to scold her, there were **babies** coming and she needed to be **gentle, careful,** so very careful. She was still so **eager,** wiggling in place while they waited, watched, and _finally_ a black shadow bullied through the snowy curtain around the island. **Home** , Nightshade called, but she was just as **happy** as she was weary and… **sorrowful**. Oh no.

Eret must've seen his face fall. “What's wrong?”

“She's- _happy,_ but sad? Something must've happened.” he swallowed the sudden lump in his throat.

Eret took his hand where it fell to his side, squeezing tight. Nightshade _was_ moving slow, barely flapping her wings even against the wind. She wheeled, landing gently several houses down, testing _every_ footstep with an awkward, shuffling gait. Tyrian rushed to her side and he followed, dragging Eret behind him. **Home,** Nightshade sang, so bittersweet. She met them halfway, chuffing that saw-over-iron sound and nuzzling under his jaw. **Question** , the eggs, the **hatchlings** , he finally dared ask. The Sickle-Scale sighed, **sorrow** just barely tinging the memory of five strange eggs. One of the eggs was cold, empty, another quickened but went still and foul, but the last three-

 _“Cass!”_ Eret shook him by the shoulders and pushed him forward.

He stumbled along and something _peeped_ above his head, between Nightshade’s back plates. Holding his breath, he looked up and huge golden eyes stared back, blinking slowly. A sob might've escaped his chest, he wasn't sure, but the hatchling _reached_ for him with a tiny, mantis-clawed wing. It was somehow both parents at once, a blocky and squat Sickle-Scale head with the roots of spines along a small frill, a tiny nose-horn, but apparently no tusks. It only had wings and legs like it's father, but those wings already seemed as bulky and armored as their mother’s forelegs. It's back plates were few and small, ending a third of the way down a spineless tail. There was a _bit_ of a spiked bulb on it's tail-tip, only time would tell how they would grow, and change… and _two more_ peeked out from behind their mother’s armor. All three were black as coal, perhaps the color came in later? But the first reached for him again and, with Shade’s permission, he pulled the hatchling off her back, holding it carefully against his chest. It snuffed deep into his fur collar, then scarf, chirping just like Foxglove had. Tyrian and Nightshade both _buzzed_ with **affection, love, kin** … Cassian sniffled and Eret folded over his back, looking down over his shoulder.

“Looks like it _was_ possible.” he said, so sweetly.

He could only nod, sniffling again. Tyrian ducked back and returned with another baby limp as a kitten in his jaws, nudging it against Eret’s shoulder. **Kin** Nightshade purred, **pack.**

“They, uh. Want to _share.”_ he chuckled, “It seems we’re part of the pack now.”

“Fine.” Eret rolled his eyes, letting go to take the hatchling.

Then, Tyrian came back with the third and Eret heaved a long, resigned sigh. Both snuggled into his wool scarf and they were so _small,_ hardly bigger than cats. Foxglove crept around them, sniffing under her aunt’s watchful eye, brimming with **delight.** Cassian scratched her brow, these were **kin** for her to grow with, to **protect**. She thrummed with **determination** and **resolve** , nuzzling sweetly against Nightshade.

“I do believe Valka and Hiccup will be keen on seeing them.” he shifted the hatchling to his other arm.

“And we can catch up with Cloudjumper and Grump along the way.” Eret added.

As they expected, the Hotburples had landed before the smithy and two dusty-gold hatchlings rested between them, right on top of Gobber. **Adoration** roared like thunder between the new parents, and at his greeting Pippin jolted with sudden excitement. Her children were **two-in-one,** same as she was. _Twins._

“Wouldja lookit that…” Gobber stared in awe as they approached.

 _“Three_ of them!” he said, almost giddy, “And yours, they're _twins!”_

“Ha! Just like their momma then.” Gobber chuckled, “And those wee beasties are looking healthy.”

“They… did lose two eggs. Ones that just didn't hatch.” he sighed.

“Aye, nature isn't always fair…” the smith shrugged, “But, _three_ made it out all spritely, and they'll never have to worry here.”

He nodded and Nightshade rubbed her brow against his shoulder. She **acknowledged** this, but still **mourned** the failed eggs and the souls they would’ve held. Her child peeped, and it's voice was _so close_ to his range of hearing, but not quite. Not yet. 

“Yes, you'll have more family than you know what to _do_ with little one.” he murmured to the dragon, “There will be so many things to see, once you're big and strong…”

“We were after Cloudjumper next, we’ll catch up later.” Eret waved awkwardly.

“Oh, aye. You know where to find me.” Gobber chuckled.

Eret steered him onward, up the hill where they could _just_ see long Stormcutter tails flicking between houses. All six of them were there, gathered before the Haddock home with Toothless, Stormfly, _their_ mates… But where were Valka and Hiccup? A great indigo Stormcutter shifted, shuffling it's wings and he finally caught a glimpse at what they were all staring at: a great wiggling pile of hatchlings, and Valka at the very least was seated in the thick of them.

Eret snorted, “Well, _this’ll_ be interesting.”

“Might we have to stage a rescue?” he smiled wryly.

 _“Nah,_ she’ll be fine.”

He rolled his eyes and sent a soft **hello** to Sunset and Cloudjumper, who eagerly **called** the both of them over. They quickened their pace, as much as they dared, slipping between wings and over tails to join the circle. Valka looked up from Hiccup, and Astrid-

“Oh _Freya.”_ Valka gasped, scrambling to her feet.

“Woah.” Astrid stared in naked awe, turning Hiccup by the chin when he looked to her.

Valka looked behind them to Nightshade, and he only felt the dragon’s quiet **affirmation** before she swept in and relieved Eret of one of the hatchlings.

 _“Incredible…”_ she said, utterly breathless.

He left her to that, there were _other_ babies around. It seemed Stormfly had a clutch of just two, one teal and the other deep blue, and both clambered all over Astrid. Their legs were remarkably well-developed, but their horns, spines and wings seemed to be a bit longer in the making. _Ten_ Stormcutter chicks milled around her and Hiccup both, but three he knew right away were Cloudjumper’s. They were the only cream-gold ones, while the rest were ruddy-dark reds and blues and greens, all hardly bigger than a Terror. They didn't have much of anything for a crest, or crown of frills, spikes, tail-fins… they were mostly heads and legs, almost comically so. Everyone would have their hands full helping with so many hatchlings around.

The initial rush of excitement wore down and he volunteered to watch the triplets so Tyrian and Shade could get a well-earned nap. They put the babies down to sleep inside a nest of quilts on their bed, still by the hearth. Tempting as it was to crawl in with them, there were things to do, exercise and lessons for the both of them. He couldn't let himself get soft again. Just under three months of winter yet to weather, then 31 days after the equinox, it would be _their_ turn.

“Well, _this_ was quite the birthday present.” he quipped, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, it's not every day yo-” Eret whipped about, eyes wide, “It's your _birthday?”_

“Yes. Legend has it being a winter baby is the only thing that spared me getting thrown to the _wolves._ All my brothers were born in summer, which probably explains their temperament.” he rambled.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Eret sat beside him at the edge of the bed.

“Why didn't you tell me yours?” he countered.

Eret sighed, “I didn't know when it _was_. Dad… wouldn't tell me. Don't know why.” 

He blanched, chewing at his lip, “I'm sorry…”

Eret shook his head and stole his hand from the bedspread, lacing their fingers together.

“You… saw when it was right?” he asked after a beat.

“I’d have to check again, but I think it was Midsummer. Lantana just _knew._ ” Cassian smiled faintly, “But, that suits you, very much. The sun, at it's strongest…”

Eret stole a kiss, and lingered close, _“Flattery_ won't save you from your training.”

“It was worth a try.” he rolled his eyes, and kissed Eret again.

“You _wanted_ to get better at archery, didn't you?”

 _“Yes.”_ he huffed.

“Push-ups then, come on.” Eret gave him a push.

He stood and stripped off his coat and thick tunic, making a _show_ of it. But when he looked back, he found Eret looked positively ill. 

“You, uh… didn't _see_ it happen, right?” he asked, “Me, being, _you know.”_

 _“No!_ Lantana was on the edge of the village.”

“Oh thank _Odin-”_

“You think they would let a _dragon_ in?” he swatted Eret with his shirt.

“I was just _checking!”_

“You aren't escaping your Arabic either. Come, your vocabulary.” he huffed, and dropped to the floor.

“Yabie, altijara, maqayis-” Eret drawled.

  
***  
  


Winter dragged, the new dragons grew, and as everyone suspected, Astrid soon proved to be with child. They hadn't said anything yet, three months in was still so _early_ but everyone knew. And if Valka’s cheeky wink was anything to go by, his slippers were already seeing good use. As the weeks wore on, the Sickle-Nadders had _exploded,_ easily keeping pace with the growth of their Nadder kin, though they were stouter and stockier with broader wings. Their colors had come in too, more like their mother in pattern save for their Nadder-striped tails, and naturally Cassian had named them already. Oleander, the purple-blue-black female, her sister Amanita, black-blue-gold, and the only male, Scorpion, black, purple, and red. They had Nightshade’s wit for certain and didn't cause _half_ the trouble most other youngsters did, especially not with Foxglove and Datura keeping watch.

Cassian was unrelenting with his lessons, but over those cold weeks they could actually _converse_ in Arabic. He knew it was important, but the rich _purr_ Cass’s voice dropped to in his own language was… distracting. Especially when that was spoken low, right into his ear, as warm hands slid under his shirt… but he was trying to _cook._

“Cass, let me make _food.”_ he huffed.

“Alright, alright…” Cassian chuckled, wrapping arms around his waist instead.

A proper blizzard howled outside, no one would be leaving home for days by the looks of it. But they had food and plenty of firewood, and the supplies to fix his firescale.

“Two more months…” Cassian sighed, giving him a squeeze.

“Yeah…” he smiled faintly, heart fluttering, “Excited?”

Cass nodded against his back, one palm sliding up to press over his scar- his _heart._

“Your hair’s getting long.” he eventually said, tracing where it fell well past his shoulders.

He hummed in agreement, “So’s yours. You want a shave?”

“Not yet, just need the twists neatened up.” Cass shrugged.

“I'll start that in a sec.” he glanced at the window, and sighed, “Can't wait for this to blow itself out. I won't mind spending _next_ winter down south.”

“What if… we _don't_ spend all winter there.” Cassian said, so quietly.

He turned, coaxing his fiance’s eyes upwards to meet his.

“What do you mean?”

“I've made some guesses, it should take about two weeks to get to al-Mariyah. I don't-” he pulled a shuddering breath, “I don't want to miss it more than I already do, _this_ is my home now and I- I don't want to be drawn _back.”_

“Cass…” he sighed, kissing his brow, “It's _alright_ to miss home. You don't have to cut yourself off like I did. Whatever happens… we can always go back, wherever we want.”

Cassian nodded slowly, sighing deep, “We’ll... have to be careful. They don't take _kindly_ to people like us, and not just in al-Mariyah. If pressed, I may have to lie about our relationship, how we met… But whatever I say, know it's to keep us _safe_ and I don't mean a word of it.”

He nodded, and snuck another kiss. That… wasn't something he'd considered. No wonder Cass wasn't keen on staying, they couldn't be _themselves._ But they could manage, for a little while.

  
***

They actually saw a little _thawing_ for Thawfest on the equinox. It was still biting cold, but the wind had stilled and the sun was partly out, but _only_ partly. It was a start. The whole village had dug out of their homes to prepare for the holiday, and Hiccup was so busy with the festivities he missed the baby’s first kick. But it was only the first of many _._ He helped Astrid sit and Eret rushed off to find her husband, while Valka looked fit to cry.

“You're sure? Really sure?” she asked, hovering anxiously over her daughter.

 _“Yes.”_ Astrid wheezed, clutching her belly, “That was my _spine,_ Freya spare me- _ow!”_

He vaguely remembered such complaints from his mother, though by her estimates Safiyah was the more bearable of them all. This was how it was supposed to be, right? Was she in any danger?

“Astrid!” Hiccup shouted, sprinting up the hill.

He skidded on a patch of ice, and Toothless’s mate only just spared him from hitting the ground. The Fury snorted **admonishment,** auricles flattening as he scrambled to his feet.

“Sorry! Sorry Rune-” he panted, “Astrid! She kicked?”

Hiccup slid to a stop, kneeling at his wife’s side when Valka took a step back.

“Yeah, a couple times.” she huffed, “She's learning where my _kidneys_ are.”

“Sounds about right for _your_ daughter.” Eret snickered, finally catching back up.

Astrid glowered and Hiccup didn't care one bit, too focused on _feeling_ , hand pressed flat to the pronounced swell of her belly. He gave the couple more space, joining Eret by Rune, who watched with quiet curiosity. She looked to them, auricles flaring when she finally **asked.**

“Ah, I suppose you _wouldn't_ have seen where humans come from.” he patted her shoulder.

Then he showed her. Hiccup and Astrid were **mates,** and her belly was as an egg for only one child at a time. Usually anyway. The baby would grow over months then… _hatch,_ she would understand that, and the baby would be here. Small, wrinkly, weak, delicate… Rune thrummed with **awe** and crept closer, sitting beside Hiccup to watch, sniff, rolling into Astrid’s hand. Hiccup yelped soon after, startling the dragon and Valka.

“She's- I _felt_ her, Astrid she's-”

Even here they could miss the tears of joy washing down Hiccup’s face. His heart twisted, but Eret pulled him close. They'd be as good as uncles to this child in time, same as Gobber and the other riders. But for now, he would allow himself a moment of… envy. That's what it was, wasn't it? _Envy…_ he better get that out of his system, before it festered. Eret seemed to sense it, and steered him away as far as the next quiet corner of Berk. There they stopped, and Eret cradled his face gently, thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, the scars, searching for something…

“Doing alright..?” he asked, hushed even in this private nook between storehouses.

He… shrugged, “I'm happy for them. I _want_ to be, but it stings. I _know_ it's stupid, selfish, it's _not fair_ to them… but I can't help it. And I don't want them to think I hold any spite-”

“They're smarter than _that_ Cass. And no one can blame you for feeling something that hurts no one-” Eret sighed, “-no one but _yourself.”_

He nodded, eyes screwing shut as his heart panged, again.

“It will pass.” he croaked.

He didn't believe it, not yet, and he knew Eret didn't either.

  
***

20 days and counting, and Eret was buzzing. Dad should be here in… two weeks, maybe, and the prospect was actually _exciting._ But Snotlout was almost done with their clothes and needed a final fitting, so he found himself in the work room, blindfolded, with Valka and Astrid gossiping in the corner.

“Is this _really_ necessary?” he huffed.

“No. But it's _funny.”_ Snotlout giggled. He _giggled_ what in the world. 

Ever since that hunting trip with Cass, Snotlout had been acting _different._ Better even, and his little crush seemed to evaporate right after which he was damn grateful for-

“Ow!” he jerked his arm back, _“Easy_ with the pins!”

“Well stop moving! Don't know what you're _shaking_ about…” Snotlout huffed.

“Ease up a little ‘Lout, yo- _hurk.”_ Astrid grunted, folding over her stomach, “I'm _going_ to kill her.”

“She's still kicking?” he winced through a twinge of sympathy.

“Sunup to sundown. And usually through the night for good measure.” she wheezed, “She's a Hofferson alright, the future _terror_ of Berk.”

He snorted, “Don't let _Cass_ hear you say that.”

The temperature damn well might've dropped a few degrees as the Haddocks went quiet.

“I suppose that _would_ be a little salt in the wound…” Valka sighed.

“What?” Astrid muttered.

“Our boys are… _keenly_ aware of the limitations of their relationship. On family.” Valka said, so very diplomatically, “And, Cassian has been hit particularly hard. So, _this_ is a bit of a… painful reminder.”

“Oh. That's, um…”

“It's _not_ your fault Astrid. This’s been on his mind for a while.” he frowned, almost not wanting to say more, but if _anyone_ could help it was Valka, “He _knows_ it's a little selfish, that's why he puts on a smile so you won't think the worst of him. He just… needs some time to sort himself out. Probably already has by now.”

“Well, we _will_ need help watching all the little Haddocks. You know, eventually.” Astrid said.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” he chuckled, “There's only so much of Mom, Dad, and Grandparents to go around. Uh- no offense ma’am.”

Valka just laughed, so hard she _snorted._

“Alright, to the back with you, I'm done.” he could _hear_ Snotlout rolling his eyes.

That workroom was just dark enough to take his blindfold off, ease out of the heavily pinned outfit, then gladly slip back into his own clothes. Snotlout would want in as quickly as possible, so he just got his undershirt on, laced his trousers properly, and gathered the rest to leave. Just as he suspected, Snotlout barged past and barely missed him with a candle, slamming the door shut. _Some_ things would never change. He stretched, scratched his shoulder, ambled back into the main space-

Valka gasped, so deep and ragged he almost dropped his coat. She shot across the room, stopping short with hands hovering around the collar of his shirt. The collar that hung so wide and low it exposed most of his scar. She never would’ve seen it, of course…

“When did this _happen?”_ she rasped, barely a whisper.

“Two years ago, about. Maybe more. It's fine, really, I forget it's there half the time.” he lied.

Valka sagged, ghostly pale, and _hugged him._ He stiffened in shock and over her shoulder, Astrid stared back with eyebrows lodged by her hairline. He… awkwardly patted her back, unsure of what to do.

“Oh, I- I'm sorry, that was… improper.” she stammered, scooting back a step.

“No, it's- you're a mom. It's what you do.” he shrugged.

Valka blinked, then ducked her head almost _bashfully_ with a watery smile.

  
***

Cassian threw another log on the fire, scowling as he jabbed at the rest. He just couldn't get _warm,_ even in the dawn of spring. But the door of the lean-to creaked, boots stomped, and the front door opened. Eret returned from his fitting with the sweetest smile, even after that walk through the cold. Strange perhaps, but that was a good-

He was swept up into a passionate kiss out of nowhere and gasped against Eret’s mouth, arching into him.

“Eret-” against every instinct, he backed an inch away, ‘What’s all _this_ about?”

“Sorry, just… It went well.” Eret huffed, grinning so _brightly._

 _“Snotlout_ gets this kind of reaction?” one incredulous brow arched, “Because I _know_ he didn't let you see the clothes.”

“Uh… Valka and Astrid were there too.” Eret bit his lip.

“What did you tell them.” he sighed.

“Well, Valka put the pieces together _for_ Astrid, after a slip of the tongue. She was kind about it, and Astrid was understanding…” Eret’s smile fell, and his eyes followed.

“And that was worth smiling about?”

“No, that was… got a bit of a mom-hug on accident. Forgot Valka’s never seen the scar, it shook her pretty badly.”

“Oh…” 

Eret set him back down, and tucked a few locks of his hair back.

“I'm sure Snotlout will be busy, if you needed a moment…” he murmured.

“No, I’ll go… Might as well be honest, to their faces.” Cassian sighed.

Eret nodded once, but he rose up on his toes for one more chaste kiss, grabbed his coat, and strode out the door.

The quickening had been a painful shock of reality, but time had since tempered the sting. He was still a _little_ envious, but it was more like seeing a fine cake on someone else’s plate. Fleeting, and ultimately not worth the time he spent dwelling on it. He could be _truly_ happy for them, and he already had something in mind for a naming gift- Wait, did they do that here? There was no one better to ask than the expecting mother herself.

Valka and Astrid were still there when he knocked, but Snotlout… wasn't.

“He's in back. Come in, out of the cold.” Valka pulled at his sleeve.

This was a little… _cozy_ for her, and Astrid was looking at him strangely. They must be thinking about that little revelation then.

“So, Eret let something slip.” he shrugged out of his coat, avoiding their stares.

“Yeah, just… a little.” Astrid muttered, picking at her sleeves.

Then she winced, rubbing her middle.

“She's still kicking?” he asked, brows pinching.

“Like a stuck Gronckle.” she groaned.

He frowned, thinking hard. What had _his_ mother done? She did sit with her feet up so much, towards the end. Maybe… that chest could work, and there was a quilt for a cushion. He dragged the box over, finally looking up to confused stares.

“She might be turned around if she's kicking low. My sister did that every so often, so Mother would lay her legs up. It helped, somehow.” he offered.

Astrid looked to Valka, and both shrugged in turn. Astrid propped her feet on the quilt and settled back, groaning with _exhausted_ frustration and he stepped away. He scuffed his feet for a moment, all too aware of the eyes on him.

“I don't know what was said, but this is all on _me._ I won't hear any apologies from you Astrid, because you have nothing to apologize _for_. You and Hiccup and everyone else have every right to be happy. This- this is a beautiful thing, worth celebrating! I let myself get stung over it, now I just… need to _not scratch_ at the wound and open it up. I'll be fine.” he sat heavily in the other free chair.

Astrid shot Valka a sly look. “So _that's_ what happened to Snotlout.”

“What?” he squinted.

“We shipped the biggest piece of work in the village off with the best counselor since Gobber, for a _week.”_ Valka chortled.

“I'm _right here!”_ Snotlout hollered from another room.

“And are we _wrong?”_ Astrid shot back.

“...no.”

They shared a rather fond roll of the eyes, and Cassian shook his head.

“I _am_ happy for you.” he said, after a beat, “And if you ever need anything, you only need to call on us. The village is not so very large.”

Astrid opened her mouth to speak, only to wheeze as her eyes screwed shut.

“Oh, she's _moving_ alright- Really, right in the stomach? At this point, if you _are_ a boy I'm not naming you Stoick out of _spite.”_

He chuckled, “I don't know, sometimes fate dishes you up the perfect name on silver. But, whichever way, I hope the group deciding names is of an _odd_ number.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Astrid scoffed.

Snotlout still wasn't ready, they could kill a little more time…

“So, _afterwards…_ ” he gestured vaguely to Astrid, couldn't be calling down bad luck, “Will there be some kind of party, celebration? I've found myself unaware once again.”

“Usually, yes. Just a little something, not a _wedding_ by any means.” Valka smiled, so warmly.

”Good. I had a little something in mind, figured out one of the family secrets in my tinkering. It was tradition back home, to gift something to protect the baby from bad dreams, and worse spirits…”

  
***

Eight more days. The plowing was done and the fields fortified, all ready for a proper sowing once the rains shoved off. There was a near-constant downpour for the last week that threatened to spoil their plans. But there was still a week ahead for improvement and Dad was here, right on time. Thank Odin, and anyone else listening. The sea was more than calm enough for the ship to moor at the docks this time, so there Eret went, pulling his oilskin cape further over his head. He’d take snow, blizzards, _hurricanes_ over this misery, the path down was sure to be a slick of clay and sand… Better get some help. He backtracked home, and ducked into the stable. Good, the Reaper trio was in.

“Hey, come on, up. We need some help, and there's someone I want you to meet. Oleander, _don't_ you bite your brother, knock it off-” he huffed.

The Reapers filed out one by one, yawning and _scowling_ at the sky. They were two-thirds the size of their father now, but shorter in the leg, stockier, with _huge_ barrel chests and too-long tails. They never grew any sort of stinger, but the lumpy tips of those whip-like tails _did_ bristle with a few pale quills, which was something. Scorpion came out last and rubbed against his arm, purring sweetly.

 _“That's_ my boy. Down to the docks, let's go. You get to meet _my_ dad.” he chuckled.

All three dragons perked, following single-file with renewed vigor. Cass insisted they were just as smart as their mother, when they focused at least, and they understood _him_ just as well. It was strange, having these one-way conversations but he was getting better at it, when he remembered to make an effort. It might well prove useful on their trip, to call or warn their flock. The path down _was_ a mess and he had to hold Scorpion’s huge sickle-claw to keep upright, the dragons somehow didn't slip at all, and he almost hated them for it. But near the bottom and on the dock proper, frantic shouting floated through the rain.

“He's coming!”

“Quick, hide it! _Hide it-”_

Suspicion turned his heart to ice and he hastened his steps, spotting over the rail-

Crewmen, scurrying out of sight with a few boxes too small or slim to hold anything of concern. _Gifts_ that they were hiding from the very people they were meant for. He felt a flash of guilt for assuming the worst, but… he did still have to think of the good of the whole village. It wasn't like they could read minds though, no harm done. So he slowed, to let them keep their secrets and the Reapers huddled behind them, drawing in all the strange new scents from a place of safety. A figure likewise swathed in oilskin stumbled down the gangplank and half-sprinted on sealegs across the dock. _Dad._ Eret dragged him into an awkward hug, just a brief squeeze around the shoulders to spare them both the damp.

“Sorry the weather couldn't shape up for you! Hopefully it'll clear.” he laughed.

“Aye, this is _miserable._ ” Dad shook his head, “But who’re _these_ three?”

Oleander, Amanita, and Scorpion chirped, peering over and around him.

“Tyrian and Nightshade’s kids, born about four months ago.” he playfully wrangled Scorpion closer, scratching around his neck, “They're perfectly friendly, just curious.”

“Wha- _four months?_ And they're _this_ big?” his father gawked.

“Yeah, they're more Nadder in that respect. And-” his grin turned sly, “We have a couple baby _Hotburples_ now too. Probably in the smithy.”

Dad stared in shock, then a grin split his face. “What the _hell’re_ we standing down here for then?”

“Careful, the path is slick as ice. Grab on to one of the kids if you need to. And, we can send someone down for the ‘cargo’. I'm sure Gobber can help you hide what needs hiding for a week.” he snorted, elbowing his father’s side.

“Oh, uh. You saw that?”

“Just a _peek._ Enough to know you've got sneaky plans like plenty of other people. I'll keep my nose out of it, don't worry.” he rolled his eyes and waved the dragons about, “Shoo, other way! You'll have _plenty_ of time to say hello.”

The Reapers grumbled, but fluttered and turned about to get back to the village. They _did_ need the assistance getting up the slick hill, and he was glad he wore his roughest boots. His _only_ boots at this point no thanks to Foxglove. There was a new pair in the works at least, just plain leather at Cassian’s insistence for their trip.

“So, how are Fox and the Furies?” Dad huffed, just barely winded from the climb.

“Still growing, but the Furies have been holed up for ages. Apparently they hate the rain like a cat hates a bath.” he shook his head.

“But… they're dragons?” Dad scratched his cheek.

“I _know_ and they still hate it! They're _waterproof_ what’ve they got to worry about?!”

His father guffawed the rest of the way to the smithy, where they could finally get warm and dry. Cassian was already there with Crucible and the Hotburples, working away at his glass. A big jar, by the looks of it. Right, they needed more storage for the trip…

 _“_ Miserable sky _nonsense-”_ Dad huffed, peeling his oilskin off.

“Agreed.” he followed suit, “Be there in a sec, luv.”

“Take your time, I'm still getting the neck pinched.” Cass answered.

He hung the oilskin to dry and rushed to the forge to grab the spare pipe, gathering a knob of melt from the crucible and holding it steady for Cass to join to the bottom of the jar. They spun their pipes in perfect sync while Cass seized the glass around the neck with a few drops of water, then freed his end with a quick tap. Eret brought the jar back to the furnace to heat while Cassian quenched his pipe, knocked off the glass, and returned it to the forge to heat once more.

“How many are you up to?” he asked, handing the pole over.

“This is the fourth, we’ll need some smaller ones for spices. I was thinking for the sake of weight we could bring waxed cloth bags for any dried fruit. It's _dried,_ so long as we keep it separate we can't really hurt it.” Cass huffed, mopping his brow.

“Nah, that's a good idea. Less things to worry about breaking.” he agreed.

“We just need to keep it _dry._ If we bring a good crate, with a few sachets of salt, that would keep the damp out. That's what the merchants did back home anyway, and salt isn't so terribly expensive there.” Cass added.

Dad finally joined them to bask in the heat of the forge, chuckling faintly.

“The _team_ you two make. No wonder the warlords didn't have a prayer.” he said softly.

“It wasn't just _us.”_ Eret said, “We’re good, _great_ even. But, not perfect.”

 _“You_ fell off Skullcrusher, _I_ was flawless.” Cass jeered, all in good fun of course.

 _“You_ ate poisonous flowers.” he jabbed back.

_“I was five-”_

Crucible threw her head back and groaned, long, loud, and gurgly enough to stop their bickering while Dad cackled, doubling over himself. A warbly grunt and the scraping of claws heralded the arrival of Pippin, with the twins draped over her back. The little Hotburples had barely doubled in size, which meant they were staying… manageable. At the sight of his father, Pippin’s speed _doubled_ and her pupils blew wide.

“Oh- oh _Thor_ is that them?” Dad stumbled over to kneel by the dragon, “They're so _little.”_

“The one with the blue spots is Beachcomber, the other is Loadstone.” Cassian explained, “Feel free to pet them, just mind their mouths. They're still mostly blind, so they'll nibble on anything they touch. And- Pippin missed you. Eret, the tongs-”

“Right! Sorry-”

He caught the jar as Cass broke the rod off and tucked it into the cooling cave. When he sealed the door and looked back, his father was gently stroking the Hotburple’s brow.

  
***

Five days, and the rain had stopped. Berk was draining and drying out in the patches of sunlight, and the farmers sowed their seeds, once a labor of days cut to an afternoon thanks to their dragons. Their wedding was a smaller affair by every measure. No grand feasts or mountains of gifts or hundreds of onlookers, just a good meal, singing and dancing with those closest to them. Cassian didn't doubt there would be others dropping by for a quick handshake and congratulations, and that was fine. Touching even. He just didn't want to be pinned under so many eyes, the whole time. The cloak and bracers were done, he would sneak them to the gift table with Gobber’s help the morning of. Though, he had a nagging suspicion the smith would be doing the same for Eret. They didn't have the traditional setup for a wedding, since he had no home of his own or family to stay with the morning of, so he'd spend the night before at the Haddock’s. They would dress, pretty themselves up, meet before the smithy…

Try as he might, _nothing_ could settle his nerves. He spent hours at the arena with his bow, shooting targets every way he could think of until his hands and shoulders ached. Tyrian relaxed on the sidelines, occasionally flinging one of his quills in a show of solidarity. It almost worked. The gentle chimes of **assurance** were better. He'd stopped for water when the Nadder perked, crest flicking as he sampled the air. Footsteps, and a **familiar** scent…

“Well, go invite him over.” he waved Tyrian towards the ramp.

The Nadder scrambled to his feet and sprinted off, gurgling happily.

“Hey! I'm goin, I'm _goin_ ease off-” Eret sr protested.

He stumbled back down into the arena, Tyrian hounding his every step. A warning of **enough, gentle** got him to back off and return to his favored spot in a shaft of sunlight.

 _“Spirited_ fellow he is.” Eret sr. shook his head, “Surprised the kids took more after mum.”

“Oh don't worry, they're _plenty_ like him.” he found himself smiling, “Just, in different ways.”

Eret sr. watched quietly as he shot a few more targets, striking reasonably well.

“Nervous?” he finally asked.

Cassian… nodded. “By all rights, I shouldn't be. It's not like anything will really _change..._ at the end of the day, we will still just be ourselves.”

“This is true.” Eret sr.’s voice dropped, suddenly vulnerable, “But it's more than just holding hands, it's a _promise_ under the gods’ eyes. Though… I don't think either of you will have any trouble with oaths. Protection, faithfulness, fortitude, support… Yes, you seem to have _that_ covered better than most. I think you'll be just fine.”

“...thank you.” he set his bow down, and shocked his father-in-law with a hug, squeezing _tight._ Then, he laughed. “It's probably a few days too soon to call you Father, isn't it?”

Eret sr. sagged, breath leaving in a rush.

“You-” he croaked, “You would-”

“If you wished it.”

Eret sr. chuckled wetly, “Well, that's _one_ less person getting confused.”

“I would not hold my breath.” he sniffed, managing a small smile.

The arms around his shoulders tightened until his spine popped and he _squawked._


	24. Chapter 24

Tomorrow.

 _Tomorrow._ It was tomorrow and Cassian felt fit to puke. He _shouldn't_ be in such a state but he was anyway. Astrid had no sympathy, and Eret was out all day, frantically busy with some last minute project. Of _course_ he was, the lummox. Valka was helping Snotlout and his father-in-law, everyone was just _busy._ Maybe… he could visit the hot springs, try to relax and pass some time. Get a good wash in, and clean his hair properly so he wouldn't have to worry about it tomorrow. With the first wave of flowering he managed to make more blossom-water that was _almost_ as good as roses, and it left his hair softer than it had been in a good long while. Oh of _course,_ he could get some perfume for Astrid, jasmine or iris- later, thoughts for later. He gathered his oils and soaps and towels in a bucket, hopped aboard Tyrian, and steered him into the mountains.

Months ago, they had enlisted a Whispering Death to widen a few of the tunnels for the Fury family, and with them they plundered more of the depths of Berk. The cave system was smaller by far, and the majority of it had to be explored on foot, but the dragons’ instincts got them safely home time and time again. There were crystals here too, studded in the deepest cavern walls that they mined for their trading stock and of course, more mushrooms. Mushrooms by the _ton._ They harvested and dried all the Furies’ favorite kinds for the trip, so Datura would never be without her fire. She was _adamant_ about coming, but the rest were less sure. They could surely use the extra dragon-power, but _too_ many would be a strain to feed, shelter, or hide if they must. He… would have to consult Hiccup on what they should do. He and Eret would be the first envoys of Berk, to Europa at least, and they would need to go with the chief’s blessings and act the part. 

The Furies were either out and about or deep in the bowels of the island, as none answered his call. So, he stripped, set his supplies in easy reach, and dumped a bucket of water over his head well away from the edge of the pool. Couldn't foul up their clean water, at least more than he could help. He slipped into the spring and just… floated, watching the Fireworms zip by. Their voices were far too small for him to hear somehow, it was strange. But the quiet left him to his own thoughts. What kind of danger would they find, just being who they were? What could've changed? Could things be more permissive, or less? He'd heard whispers of turmoil in those first years, of new leaders in every other city, instability and change and uncertainty always meant danger. He couldn't call Eret his _husband_ like he should rightly be able to. Maybe they ought to keep the dragons around, no one would dare protest in _Skullcrusher’s_ face. Oh, how sweet that would be to witness…

Nice as it was, he couldn't lounge forever. With his hair mostly wrung-out, he slowly worked more and more of the blossom-water in and let it set. The perfume was heady and sweet, filling the steamy air until it almost felt like the baths back home. Almost, but _far_ better. He left the warm embrace of the spring, filled the bucket again, and scrubbed down hard with a soapy rag until his skin ached. For tomorrow, especially tomorrow _night,_ he needed to be spotless. He had plans, and a little flask of oil hidden away just for it. With his face, he was a bit more delicate, cleaning his ears for good measure, then scrubbing his teeth with a pinch of salt. _Damn_ he missed shea oil, if he could find it a whole barrel was coming home with them. Flax would have to suffice, so he didn't look like ash. Two, then three rinses later, he squeezed his hair out again and patted dry, then rubbed the oil into his skin a few drops at a time. He dressed slowly, limbs suddenly like lead. _Tomorrow._

For lack of anything else to do, he snuck Eret’s gifts to the Haddock house and Astrid helped hide them under a quilt in the far corner. She was thoroughly impressed, which was some comfort. Eret would love them, of _course_ he would, but the anticipation was driving him mad. He sat with a mug of tea for his roiling stomach, back to the hearth to let his hair dry, and thought. Astrid watched him, slowly propping her feet up.

“You look like you're gonna puke.” she quipped.

“I _feel_ like I will.” he agreed, rolling the cup between his palms.

“It's the waiting that's the worst.” she sighed, “But, once you see him? You won't even remember what you were worried about, and the rest will fall into place.”

A flutter seized his heart and he hoped he wouldn't faint outright, now or at the sight of his fiance. Eret would look every bit like a _prince,_ he just knew it. He always did of course, but this would be different, special. Astrid asked something and he snapped to attention.

“What?”

She snorted, and asked again: “You have your brooch, right?”

“Uh, yes.” he lifted the fur that covered it at his breast, “Why?”

 _“Just_ checking.” she chimed, with a conspiratorial smile.

“Alright, keep your secrets.” he rolled his eyes.

He took a few sips of tea, and could barely choke it down.

He couldn't stomach much for dinner either, then tossed and turned all through the night.

Cassian watched the sun rise through the gaps in the shutters, and he was so very tired. But, in the same measure he _shook_ with anticipation to the core, not unlike the morning he left the Shetlands. Funny that… He kicked out of his borrowed bedroll and stoked the fire to get everything ready for breakfast, though he was in no state to eat. Valka woke first, patting him on the shoulder as she took over at the hearth. Hiccup joined them not long after, but Astrid did not.

“Her stomach..?” he guessed.

Hiccup nodded, “Yeah, it comes and goes.”

“She’ll be fine.” Valka said softly.

The chief nodded, and Cassian frowned. If only they had some _ginger…_ But the child would probably be born by the time they left. For the next time, maybe. He sighed, and looked up to find the others staring.

“Sorry, just thinking of herbs back home that could have helped. A root called ginger, that settles the stomach. There are _many_ things I will need to take back. No offense to Berk, but I won't survive another year without garlic.” he chuckled.

“Well, maybe these trading expeditions can get more regular. It's not like we’ll run out of scales.” Hiccup shrugged, “Two weeks to that city, right?”

“Yes. But that's only al-Mariyah. There are other ports, even _bigger_ ones, and grand centers of trade inland. For the dragons’ sake, it's safer to stay by the coasts. There is little to hunt otherwise, without targeting livestock by mistake. We can't risk making menaces of ourselves, building a bad reputation…” he frowned, thinking hard, “Should we try to show them the truth? About dragons. With all those trappers out trading, word _will_ spread whether we like it or not. Shouldn't we take control of our own story?”

Hiccup sat, frown hidden by steepled fingers as he thought, and thought, staring into the fire.

“You have a point. People _will_ find out, and they may come looking.” his brow furrowed, “And they should know _who_ we are and what we stand for, in no uncertain terms. We can't let the trapping start again, but it won't be any better for our future to seal our borders completely. We can go over the details later, there are _other_ things going on today.”

His stomach lurched. Right.

 _“I_ still get to do his hair!” Astrid barked from upstairs.

“Yes m’lady, we know.” Hiccup rolled his eyes, lovingly, “You just rest, Snotlout isn't ready yet and Gothi won't be up for hours.”

 _“Fine.”_ she drawled, then asked more quietly, “Could you bring me some oatmeal?”

“Almost done my dear.” Valka chuckled, stirring the pot again.

Astrid joined them eventually, hobbling down the stairs in a loose dress and her sealskin slippers. She grabbed her box of combs and shears and tugged him towards the door.

“Let's get this started, come on.” she ordered.

“Yes, I'm coming…” he sighed, grabbing the stool he sat on.

It was a beautiful day. The frost was already burning off, the sky was perfectly clear… He breathed deep and sat, pulling the tie from his hair. Astrid knew what to do, he could just relax while she coaxed a wide comb through all the short hair at the sides of his head, then the finer comb to lift the curls further. The razor followed, barely whispering over his scalp for a fresh shave, then she moved to the locks, painstakingly rolling and twisting. All the while, Astrid hummed that song from her wedding, something about ‘dancing and dreaming’... he hadn’t learned the words in time, but the rest of Berk had that covered.

“It smells nice.” she observed, “What flowers did you use?”

“Some apple blossoms, some random wildflowers, whatever I could find.” he shrugged, “Regular soap would’ve turned my hair to _st_ _raw._ There are many things I'll need to stock up on down south, oils and creams, the like.”

“Sounds like a pain. At least it's not too lon- _ow.”_ she jolted, “You've got a three months _left_ kid, relax!”

“Well, if I knew dragons were waiting for me in the outside world, I wouldn't be content to float for nine whole months either.” he chuckled.

“She’ll float those nine months and _like_ it. We’re gonna need an army to keep track of her once she starts crawling, and I don't even want to _think_ about her walking yet.” she shuddered.

“All of Berk will be here, for the both of you-” he started, then yelped when Astrid tugged his ear.

 _“Enough_ about everyone else already, this is _your_ day!” she scolded, “Oh, there's Snotlout! Go on, get inside! Go go-”

“I'm _going.”_ he dragged the chair back with him.

That must mean Eret was nearly done. But no one _else_ was, surely. There was still time, he needed to relax. But his stomach churned.

A pile of pure white wool fell on the table, and Cassian swallowed hard.

“Alright, moment of truth. Go get this on- wait, not _this_ that can wait. Everything else.” Snotlout pulled the thickest roll of cloth off the top, pushing the rest over.

“Do I still need a _blindfold?”_ he rolled his eyes.

“Ha ha, get going.” Snotlout shooed him away.

He gathered the clothes to his chest and slipped into the back room, drawing a slow, shaky breath. The trousers were plain, simple, and fit _suspiciously_ well around his rear and thighs. Snotlout was many things, and _subtle_ was not one of them. But the tunic, that was something else. It hung long, slit high at the side seams, with long sleeves and a distinctly non-Berkian high collar. There was a little pale yellow embroidery at the hems, and the wool was so _soft…_ it was perfect.

When he emerged, Snotlout squinted, pushing him further out into proper light.

“Good, good…” he muttered, tugging on the sleeves, “Move your arms a bit, now lift your legs… Go take a seat, come on.”

“Is this really necessary?” his face burned.

“Do you want to split your pants in _here_ or out _there?”_ Snotlout arched a brow.

“...point taken.”

He let their tailor make all his checks until he finally hissed a victorious _yes,_ pumping both fists in the air before strutting back to the table for the last bundle.

 _“This_ won't need any fixing. Got that pin?” Snotlout frowned, fiddling with the cloth.

“Yes, on my coat.” he retrieved the brooch, turned back-

And froze as the mantle fell open. It was covered in Light Fury scales of every color, scattered like stars, stunning even in it's simplicity. He flinched when Snotlout tossed a rolled-up belt at him, and it cracked against his breastbone.

“There's that. You don't _need_ to wear it, Gobber snuck it in. Hey Aunt Valka, does this look crooked to you? I've been staring at it for so long I can't even _tell_ anymore-”

He wasn't the least bit surprised that the buckle of the belt was the same Nadder design as his pin. Of _course_ he was going to wear it.

“So, what _else_ do you have planned Astrid?” he teased, fastening the buckle and adjusting his shirt.

“Still thinking…” she pursed her lips and dug through the box again.

“I _may_ have an idea. Come, sit.” Valka stood and patted her chair, “Astrid, could you pass me a few cords? And I may need your hands, haven't done this in a while…”

Well, this was a first, he never knew Valka to braid. At least, not with the same fervor as Astrid. But he settled down and hoped his heart would stop pounding as fingers carded through his hair. Valka muttered to herself as she separated a few cords and wove them together, trailing to a delighted humm.

“Oh, well this is easier than I thought. It's a good thing you've grown it out so much.”

“I suppose?” he tried not to move, “I wasn't really trying to.”

So, Valka worked, tugging and weaving back and forth until she stopped about halfway, just above the back of his head. 

“Hmm… should I stop here? Or braid all the way.” she asked.

Astrid stopped, stared, and _smirked_ devilishly.

“You'll want to stop _right_ there. I'll get all the garland.” she slunk upstairs.

Valka shrugged and tied the braid off, and Cassian had the nagging suspicion that Astrid was thinking _much_ further ahead. God save him.

“Did I do this _backwards?!”_ Snotlout yelped, so loud he and Valka jumped, “Wait, wait no. We’re good.”

“Snotlout…” Valka sighed, shaking her head.

“Sorry Auntie. Here, let's check the drape on this, Astrid’s probably getting ready.”

He threw the mantle over Cassian’s head and around his shoulders, tugging the cloth around, then snatched the brooch from his hand to pin the mantle by his left shoulder, fixing it a little more where the wool stuck.

“There. A little less purple today, but still a prince.” Snotlout crossed his arms with a satisfied, proud smile.

He stood straight and hugged Snotlout tight about the shoulders.

“Thank you.” he said, though his throat threatened to close on him.

Snotlout awkwardly patted his back, “Don't thank me yet, you haven't even seen the real gifts. Are- are you _crying?_ Woah, hey c’mon it's way too soon for that-”

He had only sniffed, but he gave Snotlout a little push and found himself _laughing._

It didn't last. Everyone else still had to ready themselves and he was left to pace, back and forth, until the floorboards stopped creaking and Astrid threatened to call Toothless in to sit on him. So he parked before the hearth with his legs bouncing to burn off all the anxious energy, until even that left him aching and exhausted. Minutes stretched on forever, hours were _days_ until the Haddocks were ready-

And a familiar ruby Terror pawed at the window. **Done** it chimed, the signal. Eret would be on his way to the smithy. He sprinted out the door before anyone could protest, _flying_ downhill. The cold was nothing, all he could feel was his heart in his throat and pulse in his ears. The dirt and gravel were treacherous, he slipped a few times around the last corners as he stumbled to a stop, and a dragon hooted. Skullcrusher, who quickly shifted to a thrumm of **excitement.** The rest of their flock was behind him, Wraiths, Furies, _all_ the other Rumblehorns, Sickle-Scales, Tyrian-

 _Eret_ elbowed out from the crush of bodies, and his heart stopped. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't hear the clamor of dragons. All that mattered were those honey-gold eyes, already brimming with tears as they met his. He would never know who moved first, but they met halfway and _crushed_ each other close, sniffling, laughing, _weak_ with relief.

  
***  
  


Eret didn't sleep a wink and tumbled out of bed in a haze at dawn, hitting the floor so hard his father startled awake in the loft. He lay where he fell, tangled in the blankets and too tired to move. It was so _cold_ without Cass, he'd almost forgotten…

“Son?” Dad called, voice still thick with sleep.

“‘Mfine.” he groaned.

“Don't _sound_ fine.” the bedroll rustled, stairs creaked, and a hand grappled him upwards by the elbow.

He stood with great effort and sat on the edge of the bed, slowly scrubbing his face.

“Damn… Couldn't sleep, could you?” Dad frowned, brows knitting.

“No. Not at all.” he sighed.

“Well, you're already doing better than me. I couldn't sleep for a whole week and they had to prop me on a _tree_ to stay upright for the ceremony.” Dad almost smiled, “Dunno what I was so worried about, she didn't care one way or another that I could barely mumble my vows. Hell, she carried _me_ all the way home. Strong as a bear she was… and sweet as the sunrise.”

His father sniffled, and pulled up a chair to stoke the fire.

“You were born the same day she was. ‘S why I couldn't bring myself to say a word. Just another thing you _deserved_ to know…”

“I’d... like to hear more about her. The good times.” he said, after a beat.

Dad was silent, watching the embers as they rippled in the draft.

“Five years we were blessed with… suddenly I can't remember a thing.” he whispered.

Damn, that wasn't what he meant to happen. If he could lighten the mood-

“Did she snore?”

Dad paused, then chuckled on half a breath, “Only if she was on her stomach, and somehow she always managed to do it _right_ in my ear. I'm lucky I can hear at all on that side.”

“She _had_ to have been a better cook than Valka if we’re both still alive.” he pressed.

“Oh, aye she was. Though-” Dad’s laughter only grew, “At one point she tried to convince me she was suddenly allergic to _salmon._ She only lasted a month before coming clean, something about not being able to even look at it? Never figured out why.”

A memory inexplicably returned, Hiccup’s story of befriending Toothless and getting a fish regurgitated into his lap for his efforts. Furies seemed very much alike, and Lantana had been very keen on his mother... Dad stared, first curious and then concerned.

“That… may have an explanation actually. As Hiccup discovered back in the day, some dragons make friends by sharing food, which _may_ have already been eaten.” he grimaced.

His father went pale, then positively green. “Aye, that- that would put one off a fish.”

“Maybe we _won't_ ask about that story over dinner.” he chuckled.

“Yeah, let's not. Can't be making any lovely ladies ill.”

Silence returned, more comfortable now as the sun climbed higher and they managed to choke breakfast down. His heart was pounding something fierce, so fast it left him dizzy, but Dad looked… pensive.

“Before you were born, to the day she _died_ Einna would tell you stories. They were about dragons when she thought I couldn’t hear, dragons that could _speak_ to those that knew how to listen. It sounded like fairy stories, my father and his father before him taught me all I thought I needed to know. But… she was _right.”_ Dad sighed, shaky and low, “She would’ve loved Cassian, I know she would.”

“Yeah…” he swallowed hard, then cleared his throat.

But his father huffed a weak laugh, “And I can see why you love him. They have the same spark, the same _fire_ in their hearts. I suppose some things never change.”

He nodded, sniffling faintly, “Well, maybe. Things seem a little different _now.”_

Dad flushed all the way up to his ears, and shifted uncomfortably.

“I- I hope you don't think I love your mother any less-”

“Wha- no!” he blurted, _“No,_ she- she wouldn't want you to give up ever being happy again. I know I wouldn't, if it was _me_ looking down.”

His father sniffled, nodding with a watery smile. But there were other things to do, and a determined crease set in his brow.

 _“So,_ what to do… That Snotlout boy is coming right?” he asked, tapping his chin.

“With the clothes, yeah. Just gotta get all fancy, fix my hair and such. And send Gothi’s Terrible Terror over to the Haddock house once we’re ready, it's supposed to come to us first to let us know she's at the overlook.” Eret struggled to speak evenly.

“Well, we can start with the hair. Back home the groom would have to be clean-shaved but…” Dad laughed, growing warmer, “You took after _me_ it seems, and not your other grandfather. Saves us a step.”

“Yeah, don't think I'm missing much the way _Hiccup_ complains.” he snorted.

“Judging by that statue of his _father_ it's a miracle his beard is as short as it is! Anyway, you're looking a little ragged up top, got any shears?” Dad started to peer over a shelf.

“That box over there, and… just a trim. Astrid would kill me otherwise.” he pulled the tie out, shaking his hair loose.

His father looked up from the box, one skeptical eyebrow raised.

“...Cass likes it long.” he muttered, face heating.

 _“There_ it is.” Dad chortled, “Alright, in the chair you.”

He rolled his eyes but did so, raking fingers through his hair again. It was well over his shoulder blades now, and fast approaching the middle of his back. Cassian did most of the work keeping it neat, so he didn't much mind. It was something quiet, intimate… but not what he should be thinking about right this moment. Dad combed his hair back, quick and efficient so he could snip the frayed ends section by section, mere fractions of an inch. He tried to relax as more hair fluttered to the ground in little flurries with each rasp of the shears, until it was done. They still had to wait for Snotlout, so he grabbed the broom to sweep, neatened the bed, considered moving it upstairs, _actually_ moved it upstairs since he had help, and all the while his father couldn't look him in the eye. Oh. Right. It's a little obvious what they would be _up to_ later. He awkwardly cleared his throat and brought the table back down where it belonged, then the chairs, and on the third trip he nearly kicked a small flask of oil across the room. Where did that come from..? Back on the pantry shelf then.

Snotlout finally came knocking, giddily shoving all he carried into Eret’s arms, bundled wool and a wide belt by the looks of it. Though, the tailor kept something else slyly behind his back.

“Go on, get changed! I just need to check it one more time.” Snotlout gave him a push.

“I'm _going.”_ he huffed, and mounted the stairs.

His hands shook as he set the clothes out. First were the plain white trousers, then a long tunic with short sleeves and a collar that wouldn't dip too low, embroidered simply with yellow thread. It was nothing like the Haddock’s thread of gold and heavy ornaments… and he loved it all the more for that. The clothes fit well too, _very_ well, and he was glad the tunic hung to mid-thigh. The last thing he needed was Ruffnut ogling, which he _knew_ she still did. Poor Fishlegs…

Snotlout hummed, studying hard as he shuffled down the stairs, fiddling with his new belt. Of course the buckle was their almost-owl, but… perhaps a _little_ more Stormcutter than usual. _Sneaky._ He had to suffer Snotlout plucking at the seams and hems again, muttering all the while. Dad sniffled, scrubbing a tear away.

“Move around for me. It's not straining anywhere?” Snotlout prodded.

“Yeah, it's all fine. You really think _you_ messed something up?” he nudged the tailor’s shoulder, “It was probably flawless at the last fitting.”

Snotlout’s ears turned red. “It's a matter of professional integrity or something, shut up. Belt, on.”

“Alright, take it easy…”

The leather was supple, fitting just as comfortably as his wool kilts and big as the buckle was, it didn't weigh half as much as it should. Gronckle iron maybe? He looked down to fiddle with the folds of tunic when more white fabric fell over his head.

“Oops. Uh, could you bend down a bit? Yeah, thanks.”

The cloth pulled back, revealing Snotlout’s _bright_ red face as he adjusted the mantle around his shoulders, wool, studded with Light Fury scales. But not just _any_ Fury, they were all from lil’ Crush. Well, that explained why his own stash was barely growing.

“Oh, where’s that pin??” Snotlout peered around the room.

“Over here, heads up!” Dad tossed it from the table.

Snotlout caught it handily and pinned the mantle at his right shoulder, then fiddled with it a little more for good measure, until he was happy with the way it hung.

“Alright!” he admired his work, hands proudly on his hips, “And you're done! Off to the Haddock’s!”

With that, Snotlout strutted out the door and on his way, and Eret drew a shuddering breath. The wool was warm, soft between his fingers… it was almost time.

“Oh, _lookit_ you…” Dad rasped, near a whisper.

When he turned, his father was weeping but still managed a wobbly smile, and he _needed_ the hug that followed. It was _almost time,_ and he squeezed his father tighter about the shoulders. It was grounding, and he just needed a moment to remind himself to _breathe._ Astrid might be coming by if she could sneak away, thought he would be just as happy with no braids at all. It would be nice to see her though…

Some time later, just when he was starting to get antsy again, Astrid barged right in with a comb and a few hair ties.

“Okay, Gothi is up and getting ready. Won't be too much longer.” she huffed, a little breathless, “Sit, I'm braiding _someone_ today. Valka’s already stolen my thunder once.”

“Well, if you want to ship her off for such an injustice I'm sure Scauldy can be convinced. I've _seen_ him licking his chops at the sight of her.” he cracked a weak smile.

“Yeah, keep joking about feeding my mother-in-law to a dragon. But see if I make that cheesy bread _ever_ again.” she glowered.

“Wh- _Astrid_ you don't mean that-”

“Don't _test_ me son of Eret.” she pushed him towards the chair.

He pouted and sat down while Astrid combed back the hair at his temples for a simple plait at each side, meeting in the back. There she tied the braids off with a sigh.

“All I've got time for, I had to sneak out the _window.”_ she muttered.

“The _window?!_ Astrid, you're _pregnant!”_ he wheezed, knees turning to jelly.

“Only six months.” she scoffed, “Hiccup hovers enough already, I don't need _you_ joining him.”

“Astrid, this is _serious!”_ he staggered upright, just barely taking her by the shoulders, “He worries for a _reason,_ he was born so early he barely survived! And I'll bet he remembers that _every_ time he looks at you. What if you fell? That could have killed the _both_ of you.”

Astrid wilted, flushing with guilt.

“I know _,_ just- I'm not _weak,_ I don't need to be coddled all the time.” her brows knit hard.

“We know you're not. But the _baby_ is. So… let us help _you_ protect her.”

Astrid punched him in the shoulder. “Stop being clever _,_ that's Cassian’s job.”

“Who do you think I _learned_ it from?”

 _“Fine.”_ she groaned, “But I have to get back.”

He stared hard, one eyebrow arching.

“ _Not_ through the window.”

“Thank you Astrid. We’ll be done soon-”

He froze solid, just for a moment, when she hugged him and after half a second’s hesitation, he hugged back gently, just around her shoulders.

Then something _kicked_ against his gut. He stiffened, breath leaving in a rush.

“That was-” he croaked.

 _“Yup_ that was her. Cass was right, she wants _out.”_ Astrid grumbled, “And at this point, you two can _have_ her. For an hour. Maybe. Eventually.” 

He chuckled weakly, rocking her side to side.

The little red Terror finally came clawing at his window, a desperate skittering scratch. Gods, it was _time,_ but he still had to gather their flock. With Dad on his heels, he sprinted out the door, skidding around the mudroom to grab the little dragon off the sill.

“We’re coming, go get Cass!” he blurted, and tossed the Terror back into the air.

Skullcrusher was already trotting back up the path from the lower banks with the Nadder-Scale family and Fury pack _and_ the other Rumblehorns behind him. That just left the Wraiths, and Datura scurried off behind the house to fetch them from their glass-walled burrow. He would have gone with her, but Skullcrusher cornered him, purring so hard his scales rattled. They _knew_ what was happening somehow, and milled around him in a crush of scales, thumming, chirping, thrilling…

“Yeah, it's- it's a big day.” he sniffled, grappling the Rumblehorn closer, “We gotta go, c’mon.”

Datura returned with the Wraiths in tow, and tackled Skullcrusher by the knees to get him moving. Crush grunted, but kept nudging into his chest, sniffing deeply.

“He's coming! Go, go!” Dad barked over the dragon-chatter.

“I'm trying! Crush, _move-”_

He finally turned the pack in the right direction and they marched in force to the smithy, still surrounding him on all sides. He could barely see over the wings and tails and Skullcrusher’s huge neck, but he knew these paths well. But the dragons stopped short, so close to where they needed to be and Crush hooted, trailing to a mighty thrumm. He elbowed out of the flock, ducked under Lantana, and froze.

 _Gods_ he- he was- There were no words, for far too long. Nothing in all his life could quantify, describe, _compare._ But clarity set in, followed by a wash of calm _bliss_ as tears filled his eyes and a grin split his face, so hard it hurt. They moved, maybe at the same moment, meeting in the middle and scrabbling for each other, stumbling, spinning, squeezing each other tight. Cass burrowed into his mantle, tucked under his chin, and the perfume of flowers filled his senses. So sweet, sweet as spring… He breathed deep, suddenly remembering the scent that clung to Cassian’s pillow in the Shetlands. _Oh._

Skullcrusher curled round, nudging them towards the saddle and he reluctantly loosened his grip, scrubbed his cheeks dry, and took a deep breath.

“We’ve gotta get going, Gothi is waiting for us.” he said, kneading Cassian’s neck.

Cass nodded. They climbed into the saddle and familiar arms, _so_ much stronger now, gripped his waist as Skullcrusher took to the sky, circling once and powering to the Overlook, like their first flight in. The elder was waiting a few steps from her Terror-powered flying chair and as they dismounted, she slowly unfolded the banner she carried. It was much shorter than the Haddock’s he noted, but they _were_ the first to use it. Maybe… it would grow someday. Somehow. Cassian grabbed his hand and, with his heart in his throat, they took those last steps to stand before Gothi. The cloth fluttered and fell to cover their raised hands, first plain with a sawtooth border, but the next loop revealed a twin-sailed ship, Skullcrusher, himself, Cassian, Tyrian- all them, _their_ story in Berkian embroidery. Gothi took a step back, smiling faintly. Only the awkward wall of arms between them and the elder being _right there_ spared Cass the kiss of a lifetime. They met halfway with the barest press of lips and he smiled against Cassian’s mouth, heart full to bursting. It didn't last because they _laughed,_ fleeting chuckles that deepened until they shook with it, leaning hard against each other but unwilling to release their hands from the bundle of cloth. He couldn't breathe, the tears swimming in his eyes left him blind but he knew Cass was smiling too. There- there were no words, in _any_ language for what filled him. Unbridled joy, freedom, wholeness, so so much-

 _“I love you.”_ he said, so suddenly clear, _“Gods_ I love you so much-”

Cassian silenced him with another kiss, dragging him down once he freed a hand from the banner. He rolled into it, turning to meld completely with those full lips-

Something cracked across the back of his knees and he yelped, almost bowling Cass over as he stumbled, righted, and looked back at Gothi. She was thoroughly unimpressed, tapping her foot a few more times before gesturing sharply back towards the village. She marched back to her dragon-chair and the Terrors mustered to take her back to firmer ground. Yes he _knew_ their friends were waiting, and they could wait a few minutes more.

“Didn't have to hit me…” he huffed, “Isn't she related to Gobber?”

“No idea, but it wouldn't surprise me.” Cassian, _his husband_ chuckled.

Skullcrusher ambled closer, sniffing the banner and their joined hands before looking to them with curious eyes. Ah, he probably wouldn't understand the ceremony of it all. But Cass- his husband, gods above _his husband_ seemed to be explaining and soon the dragon rumbled, first delighted and then _ecstatic._ He nudged them more insistently, almost prancing in place.

“I made the mistake of telling him there would be a _party.”_ _his husband_ smiled, tired but so sweet, “Seems we _must_ go back.”

“Well, we do have to start cooking. Astrid is making her cheesy bread.” he kissed _his husband’s_ brow.

Cassian’s eyes went wide before he was hauled along to the saddle.

“What are we up _here_ for then?! Get on, go!”

He could only laugh, carefully unwinding the banner, rolling it, and tucking it into his belt before vaulting onto Skullcrusher’s back, _his husband_ behind him as they dove off the cliff.

Anyone out and about waved politely as they crossed the village and they flock sprinted from the cliffs to join them. The biggest shock was seeing his father with them, on _Pippin_ no less, with the hatchlings in his lap and Grump and Ginger trailing behind them. Skullcrusher led the way to the great lawn before the Haddock home and Great Hall steps, where tables were already out and waiting for them. Gobber had a fire pit going, and the smallest of the four tables was covered with a blanket. Must be the gift table then, so _sneaky._ And tempting. It _had_ to be Astrid’s idea. Crush landed a safe distance away and the flock swarmed them before they could even think to dismount. Foxglove was the most insistent, panting and whining until they were on the ground where she grappled them both into a hug. He almost buckled under her weight, awkwardly patting her neck and chest for a reprieve until Cass got her down, only for Datura to throw herself over their backs. He couldn't bring himself to care, not when _his husband_ smiled so brightly.

They ran the gauntlet of their dragons, finally meeting Dad on the fringes. There was no hesitation, they swept right in to hug him tight, until _bones_ popped. It felt… good. _Damn_ good but… one person was still missing. He wished his mother could see this, wherever she was. Maybe… not _all_ of it.

 _“Lookit_ the both of you.” his- well, _their_ father sniffled, “You'll have to forgive me, gotta- gotta do a bit of cryin’ on Einna’s behalf.”

“That sounds fair.” Cassian said, muffled through Dad’s fur collar.

“There's some cooking to do.” he sighed, “Can't hug all day, tempting as it is.”

“Aye, that's true…” Dad squeezed all the tighter, “C’mon, before that _sister_ of yours drags us over.”

 _“Sister?”_ he huffed, rearing back to stare.

“Berks very own chieftess! Oh, come _on_ son, surely you can see it.”

He looked to Cassian, who just giggled. _Giggled_ at him!

“You two _are_ like siblings. I should know.” Cass elbowed his side.

“Are _not.”_ he pouted, nudging back.

“I'm gonna have to respectfully disagree.” Hiccup chuckled, striding up behind them.

“Chief! Uh, apologies-” Dad stammered, stumbling as he turned.

“No, no you're fine!” Hiccup held a hand up, smiling easily, “They have gotten along _quite_ well ever since his dragon-napping. Late apology for _that._ ”

Dad whipped to stare at him, blinking owlishly. _“What_ happened?”

“I _did_ say I got dragged out of the trapper business kicking and screaming.” he snorted, “Astrid and Stormfly’s fault. And I still love them for it.”

“Well, if you insist…” Dad shrugged.

They finally joined the tables and the dragons followed, making an absolute racket of chirps and purrs, delighted like the joy was infectious. Bread was in the making, salmon were set aside to scale and gut, a bowl sat waiting full of onions and herbs, plus boards of cheese, dried fruit, even a bit of honeycomb. It was simple, perfect. But Dad slipped away, ducking over to Gobber to whisper in his ear then he sprinted to the back of the Haddock home. To wasn't until the smith looked back with a sly grin that he suspected something. He squinted and gave Cass a nudge, pointing as his father returned from the back of the house, with a sizable covered basket. A basket that _shook._

 _“So!”_ Gobber announced, strutting into the thick of the crowd, “Given the nature of a certain gift, it has to come out a wee bit early. Eret, c’mere you'll need a bit of space.”

The smith waved him forward and Cass gave him a push. He rounded the table, almost wary as his father set the basket down, whipped off the blanket-

A pure white dog hunkered in the bottom, ears pressed flat as it squinted against the light. It- it wasn't a sled dog no, it was far too small, too fluffy, it couldn't be more than a few months old either. It whined, and suddenly he was _home,_ a child before the hearth, burying his face in thick grey fur. He dropped to his knees and slowly offered his hand. The puppy sniffed his fingers, then licked a few times as it rose off it's belly. Oh, that _face…_ he must be grinning like a fool. The puppy scrambled out of the basket, yipping in alarm as it tipped sideways and tumbled into the grass. But it quickly scrambled upright and set about sniffing the ground, his boots, then pants. It looked to him, tail slowly wagging as it sat.

“I've been training him, he's just about housebroken. Doesn't quite know any commands yet, but he’ll get there.” Dad smiled, but there was a certain sad pinch to his brows, “If recollections are right, he's the grandson of _our_ dog. I… left him behind, back in the day. Figured it was as good an excuse as any to take a trip. Traditions, you know?”

“You went home?” his face fell and the puppy whined, pawing at his arm.

His father nodded, “Had a lot to make up for. And, I've left you a map. Up there, you know, if- if you ever wanted to go yourself.”

He didn't trust himself to speak, lurching up and forward to grapple his father in for a hug instead.

“What is _that?!”_ Astrid yelped.

He jolted, and found the puppy trotting Astrid’s way, tail wagging with increasing interest. She backed up slowly, and for the second time in his life he saw Astrid _apprehensive._

“Hey, ease up there.” he caught the dog and coaxed it to sit, but it still wiggled like a fish.

A quick glance around revealed all the Berkians, even the _dragons_ were equally perturbed. But Cassian joined him, grinning brightly.

“I've never seen a one like this, look at all that _fur!”_ he laughed as the puppy rounded on him, springing to bathe his face in kisses.

“Haven't any of you seen a dog before?” Eret asked.

“I have!” Snotlout piped up.

“Wolves don't count.” Cass rolled his eyes, “But, really? No one?”

The crowd shook their heads slowly, all eyes fixed on the pup with his paws braced on Cassian’s chest. They rode dragons through blizzards, and a _dog_ is a shock?

“It's fine, really. He's not gonna get much bigger than this, and they're bred to be good-natured working dogs. Just needs a little training and discipline.” Dad explained.

“C’mon Astrid, _look_ at this face.” he reached over and ruffled the dog’s ears, smushing it's cheeks.

She set her bowl down, inched forward, and they both held the puppy still as she scratched between it's ears. It nosed at her arm, trying to lick and sniff as _she_ tried to avoid it. Datura was the first dragon to break cover, and the pup was utterly _fearless._ They froze nose to nose and she dared to lick it's face in return, only to rear back in disgust with her tongue coated in fur. He couldn't recall hearing Cass laugh that hard, _ever_ , but it was like music.

The puppy was content to hang around as they cooked, but he trusted Cass to keep the dragons calm. Gods, he hadn't seen a dog since… since they had left. He couldn't be sure the one he remembered was _theirs_ but they looked similar enough. The old one had kept him warm by the hearth on so many nights, before his father- no, no more thinking about that. The white beast was content to race around the lawn with Datura on his tail until they both collapsed in panting heaps, and that seemed to put everyone at ease. They cooked, drank, ate, drank some more, shook a few dozen hands, but he had _gifts_ waiting and it was still cold enough for his husband to get some use out of what he had made. Luckily Gobber and his father _both_ seemed to be keenly aware of how eager he was.

“Oh stop that bouncing, you've _had_ your turn.” Gobber swatted his arm.

“In the _getting_ not the giving.” he pouted, swatting back.

“Alright, so _impatient.”_ the smith rolled his eyes and hauled to his feet. Foot.

“That hasn't changed much, don't you worry.” Dad chortled into his mug.

He huffed, nose wrinkling as he stood from the bench to join Gobber at the gift table, dragging Cass behind him. They set the folded banner more carefully aside, but it was Valka and Astrid that darted in to pull the tarp back. Because it wasn't a tarp. It was a _quilt,_ sewn and embroidered with a rampant Rumblehorn and Nadder, and the rest of their flock flew around the borders, even the _Reapers._ Both ladies laughed, probably at their expressions, and folded the quilt neatly to put it with everything else they revealed, but Cassian pushed him back.

“Me first, out of the way!” he grabbed a thick stack of something and shoved it in his arms.

And it was _heavy,_ wool and fur and dragonscales. He let the bundle fall open and- gods, Cass _made_ all this? It was a whole _wolf_ skin, legs, tail and all over a duster of scales from every Rumblehorn in the herd. Even the _straps_ bore their dragons on iron studs. Before he could speak, Cassian added bracers to his armful, with the same fur, studs and scales. With his heart in his throat, he hugged _his husband_ as tight as he could.

“Show off.” he blinked a few tears away.

“I guess I did well then.” Cass chuckled, so _smug_ he could kiss that grin right off-

Later. “ _Now_ it's my turn, stop peeking ahead.”

Cassian pouted, and kissed his cheek before he slipped away to find a place on the table to set the cloak and bracers down. It took a mighty effort not to stare at all that waited there, just the boots and slippers that he took and set on the bench. They… almost paled in comparison now, that cloak was _incredible._ But his project had worked well enough, with the sawtooth brocade over the seams, and a few scales where the fur wasn't turned to the outside on the boots. Cass examined the pairs one at a time, giggling and half-drunk.

“Well, it's not quite winter anymore.” he leaned into Eret’s side.

“I know, but now you have them.” he kissed Cass’s cheek in turn.

“They're beautiful… it's the same as the mittens, right?” Cass rubbed the fur between his fingers.

“Yeah, all seal fur. Valka helped. And I _see_ you Dad, go on already.”

His father rolled his eyes, cheeks growing red as he retrieved… a quiver? A beautiful leather quiver, tooled and painted with their clan symbol, and long archer’s gloves to match. But that wasn't all, Dad opened a long roll of oiled leather to reveal a _huge_ unstrung bow, all smooth pale wood and elegant curves with a woven leather grip. He opened a little pouch to withdraw one of many bowstrings with a spindle-shaped draw bead and slowly, painstakingly strung the bow. It didn't even creak as the huge arms bent into perfect double-curves, but it was still nearly as long as Cass was tall when Dad passed it over the table. What was the _draw_ like on this thing, the arms were near as thick as his _wrist._

“I picked up a yew stave down in Angleland, made a good project. The _best_ wood on the planet for bows they say, enough to knock a man flat. I was worried I made it too big, but you've got one _hell_ of a draw son.” Dad chuckled, and his eyes shone.

“It's incredible…” Cass breathed, fingers settling on the string.

He gripped the bead and tried to draw the bow back, but stuttered to a stop before his wrist reached his nose and grunted from the effort. Damn, even all that training wasn't quite enough.

“We can uh… work on that later.” Dad pulled a smaller box over, “And, just one more thing, for the both of you. A little more traditional.”

He looked to Cassian, and they lifted the lid together. He almost didn't recognize it unpolished, but it was all _amber,_ nuggets of every size, and a roll of parchment. The map. Cass set the bow down and they both hugged Dad tight through a few more sniffles. He could explain all this later, and they could try polishing some another day. Fishlegs was next with a pair of thick leather-bound journals and pens made of a soft, greasy grey stone that left marks like charcoal. It was a curious thing, but it would surely be useful in the future.

“I _expect_ notes on any dragons you find.” Fishlegs teased.

The twins gifted small bags with tethers to lash to their belts, and he hadn’t thought they could _make_ something so fine. The outer flap was intricately tooled, but inside, everywhere they looked, little pockets and pouches opened far more than they should rightly be able to. Hell, there were _too many_ pockets judging by the stitching, how did they manage?

“Loki prevails.” Tuffnut chortled, elbowing his sister.

Snotlout was next and… he was truly speechless. He, with no small flush of pride, presented matching vests, heavily padded over the shoulders, studded with gold and silver Rumblehorn scales that slowly blended into the whole _flock_ of Light Fury scales. They were only lined with linen... for the trip down south, of course. His was far longer than his copper vest, and Cassian’s would fall well below his knees where it peaked in the front and back. His kilt and Cass’s coat would all be far too hot down there, even in winter. But they would be _damn_ good advertising for what they had to sell.

“So _that's_ where all my scales went.” Cass jabbed at Snotlout’s shoulder.

He just shrugged, looking far too smug, “You were the one hoarding them all! We can add a warmer lining later, _and_ \- look inside.”

Eret rolled his eyes. “Secret pockets?”

There were secret pockets, just above where a belt would comfortably sit. Snotlout insisted they would thank him, and they just _might._ Not that they would ever tell him when they got back. But their thanks sent him flushing bright red, mumbling a faint ‘you’re welcome’.

That just left Gobber, Hiccup, and the belts. Three of them actually, he helped with the last but he hadn’t known what it was for at the time. It seemed to be for the quiver, so Cass could carry it on his back, but another small sheath had been added to it, just the right size for a dagger. The other belts were wide, sturdy, with the same sigil buckles and riveted rings to strap on a scabbard-

The blacksmiths shared a glance, smirked, and laid the matching weapons on the table. Two long knives with cross-guards and pommels _studded with gems_ that curved back over the handle, to protect Cassian’s hands. Then there was the dagger to fit the little sheath, it's tang hammered out and twisted back on itself for an ornate handle, with a delicately forged oak leaf for a guard. But _his_ was a full hand-and-a-half sword, of featherlight Gronckle iron that rippled with faint patterns from it's making. The handle was longer than he was used to, wrapped in blue leather with an owl pommel- No. It was only an owl on one side, and a _Rumblehorn_ on the other. Cassian’s hand covered his where it started to shake, squeezing gently.

“I-” he croaked, and cleared his throat, “I can't thank you enough, this- this is-”

“There are no words, for what you've done for us.” Cassian stepped in, “From the very beginning. Giving Eret a chance, trusting _me,_ letting us help Berk-”

Hiccup held up a hand, smiling faintly, “Toothless and Stormfly knew what was possible, even in those first days. We just had to wait a little, _you_ did the rest. The both of you. And, now we’re heading into a whole new era, for Berk and for dragons.”

Astrid took her husband’s hand, “I'm sure we would’ve sorted everything out _eventually,_ but there's no doubt in my mind that the fighting could’ve dragged on for years. We already had a few close calls, almost _too_ many. So… we have to thank you too.”

Cassian nodded, he might've too but he was so _dizzy_ with gratitude, with _joy_ it all felt like a dream. The next hour was a haze as they sang, danced- he didn't know Cass could _dance_ , Odin save him, he was like _fire_ the way he moved. As they watched the sun track down, the _looks_ started, expectant, lingering, stolen over and around their guests. But they still helped clean, pack things away, gather their gifts… Dad cleared his throat, giving the puppy at his feet a pat.

“I'll, uh… watch him for the night. I'm sure you two are tired.” he said, quite diplomatically.

 _Oh, we aren't tired yet,_ he thought. But he nodded, shifting the borrowed basket as Cassian loaded more in. Cloak, bracers, belts, weapons, vests… _gods_ no one in al-Mariyah would dare cross them, and he couldn't wait for autumn. But there was still so much to do before then. For now, they had to get home and put all this away. Among _other_ things. They waved polite goodbyes, made their escape, and Cassian, _his husband_ , clung to his arm as they walked. The dragons followed, nuzzling them one by one at the door where they were finally left in peace.

 _“Wow.”_ Cassian breathed as he fumbled with the latch.

He just hummed, but Cass froze in the doorway once he got it open.

“You _moved the bed?!”_ he squawked, and rushed inside.

“Uh, sorry?”

He edged in just in time to see Cassian bolt up the stairs, half-tripping in the loft. Was that something in his hand? He squinted as he set the basket on the table, then shrugged. Oh, let him have his plans. He grabbed two of their fine glasses and the bottle of pomegranate wine, splitting what remained equally between them. There was no better time in the world. Plus, they could get _more_ soon enough. _His husband_ returned, red-faced and fidgeting until he pressed the glass into his hands.

 _“So,_ are you now a son of Eret or am I a-” the quip stopped short.

“Are you a what?” Cass prodded.

“I… don't know your family name.” he flushed and sipped at his wine, _stronger_ now than ever.

“I had intended to leave it behind.” Cass shrugged, “It _was_ ibn-Reza. It's, well, rather the same as ‘son of Eret’. Just, _my_ father’s name.”

“I like _son of Eret_ better.” he hummed, leaning closer.

“As do _I.”_ Cassian stole a kiss, brief and sweet, but he could _taste_ the wine on his lips...

But before he could sweep in for more, _his husband_ pulled away, brows drawn as he frowned minutely, thinking...

"Cass?"

"I forgot before, at the overlook. What are the _words..."_ he huffed, eyes squeezing shut until finally, haltingly, he spoke, "Where you go I will follow, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people, and your God my God, and where you die I will die, and there I will be buried."

His breath left in a rush, so fast it ached in his throat, "Wh- Cass, don't talk like that, there's no rush to be thinking about _funerals-"_

"They aren't _my_ words, its from the Christian's holy book." Cass huffed a little laugh, kissing him for good measure, "A vow, but not one for weddings. Either way, I mean it. When the time comes, I want to be laid to rest at your side, wherever that may be. Al-Mariyah, Berk, some wild mountain I'll have to cross oceans and deserts to return to... Wherever you are, I am _home._ And that's where I'll stay, while we still live and breathe and long after our bones have turned to dust."

"I thought you weren't a poet?" he managed to quip-

Then _his husband's_ mouth was on his again, searing-hot and trembling from the force of everything they both felt, fingers carding into each other's hair and catching on the braids, glasses set aside to leave them free for more. A hand scrabbled at his brooch and he took over to pull it free, shedding the mantle- But a touch stopped any more undressing, after a few more kisses _his husband_ backed an inch away.

“I want to see that cloak on you.” he murmured, still so very close.

“...damn let me get the fire going-” he stumbled to the hearth, face blazing.

He'd forgotten that entirely, but once it was crackling he decided to do one better. With a few tugs he pulled the belt open and set it aside, then turned his back and pulled the tunic over his head, making a long, slow _show_ of it. An appreciative groan confirmed his suspicions, so he pulled the tie from his hair and unpicked the braids for good measure. There were a few things to get out of the way, and he shivered as cloth rustled behind him, and a belt hit the table. Why had they _buried_ it under so much, damn. He pulled the cloak out slowly, shaking out the layers before easing the great weight of it over his shoulders, pulling the straps across and fastening the clasp behind his back. The iron rivets pricked his skin with points of cold that drew chickenskin along his chest, arms-

“Turn around.” Cassian said, no, _ordered._

Eret swallowed hard, his heart pounded, and he _obeyed,_ shifting so the cloak billowed _just_ right. It was the perfect length to do so, only to his knees in back and shorter in front, just he way he liked it. Cassian watched hungrily over the edge of his glass, taking a long, slow sip. He'd shrugged off his own mantle and belt, leaving his tunic on. The slit collar plunged much deeper than Eret thought, well below the hollow of Cassian’s throat, baring just a flash of collarbone.

“Come here.”

That _voice_ curled like hooks under his ribs. He felt near feverish with the flush of arousal that followed and he took one step, then another, pinned by Cassian’s dark eyes.

“It fits well.” he barely kept his voice steady.

“It _does.”_ Cass dragged half-curled fingers up his stomach to the hollow of his ribs.

He jumped at the touch. Something told him to stay still as _his husband_ traced every muscle and scar where the straps framed his skin, and finally that hand settled on his hip, rubbing circles through the fabric. His breaths came a little faster and his trousers strained.

“Why don't we finish the wine first?” Cassian smirked, the _tease._

He pouted and sat back down, taking up his glass. Tempting as it was to finish quickly, this bottle was _special_ and he wanted to savor this last bit. Still, Cassian stared, _drinking_ him in, but he wasn't the least bit nervous. Cass looked like a man starved and he was more than willing to be devoured, however he planned to do it. That… did nag at him, that Cass seemed to _know_ more, he was more sure of himself, _experienced_ even. Who else had he been with, who had he touched? And, who had touched _him_? Cass’s brows knit, and the swagger fell away as fast as he could blink.

“What is it?” he prompted.

“Just… wondering.” he tripped over his own tongue, “Was there ever- anyone else.”

Guilt stung as soon as the words left his mouth. This was their _wedding night_ he shouldn't be-

Cassian’s hand closed tight over his, “No one, only _you._ Unless… you count _watching.”_

“Watching… other men?” something about the thought left him flushed, and he swallowed hard.

“Yes, there are such places if you know who and where to ask. That happened… maybe twice? There were no hands but my own, and, there _are_ things I saw, _other_ things you might just enjoy. I had planned to show you.” Cassian shifted, suddenly nervous.

“That's- that _is_ different, I don't mind.” he blurted, “I just… I was curious is all. I wouldn't think any less of you if you had.”

Cassian smiled, small, relieved, _grateful,_ and stole a kiss over their joined hands.

“Now, what else could there _possibly_ be? I'm almost afraid to ask.” he smirked.

“You can't even _imagine_ the pleasures I've seen.” Cass purred, the seductive air returning, “We don't have the means for some of it, but there is so _much_ you can do with just your mouth and hands, and a little oil. I've been… _practicing.”_

_“Damn_ Cass, you can't just say things like that.” he groaned, pulsing with _want_.

“I just did.” Cassian took another sip of wine, gaze locked with his.

He pouted, glowering over his cup, “You're _lucky_ I want to savor this.”

Cassian smirked that knowing smirk, but he didn't miss those strong thighs squeezing together, the shifting with anticipation. Two could play at that game. He leaned back, holding his husband’s eyes as the cloak fell open and he spread his legs wider, so there was _no_ missing his interest. Those ruby eyes raked over him, hungry as Cassian’s breath grew short. The game continued between too-slow sips of their drinks, shedding the cloak, tunic, boots, tugging the laces of their trousers loose… and Cassian had _never_ looked more beautiful; flushed with want, lips reddened by wine, eyes blown-black pits that drew him in. the last drops barely hit his tongue when Cassian snatched the glass from his hand and crawled into his lap, where their skin touched he _burned._ He allowed one ravenous kiss before scooping Cass up, lurching to his feet with a firm grip under his thighs and ass.

“Stay still.” he growled, nipping at Cass’s lip.

He slowly, _carefully,_ took the stairs one by one and he could feel Cassian’s heart pounding against his chest, in the sweetest rhythm. It took a little maneuvering and kneeling on the bed to lay Cass out properly, so he could dive in for another kiss. Desperate hands raked through his hair, tugging and pressing for a better angle as he hooked his thumbs into the hem of Cassian’s trousers and pulled, slow at first then more insistent. He got the hint, arching off the bed so Eret could pull the cloth down his thighs. Once Cass kicked his trousers off, he returned the favor, sitting up a little to reach and getting himself a good _squeeze_ for his efforts. Eret’s breath hitched, and he shimmied his legs free one at a time, pulling Cass’s plump lower lip between his teeth. That always drew the _richest_ sounds from him, and he gladly swallowed them down with another deep kiss. As much as he would like to carry on, his lover had plans. With great reluctance, he prised himself away.

“So-” he panted, voice rough, “What did you have in mind?”

Without a word, Cassian rolled over and started fishing under the bed. He seemed to struggle, reaching deeper, so Eret took that moment to shake out their pants and hang them off the foot of the bed. No sense letting their good clothes wrinkle. Cass lurched back upright, with that little bottle of oil. That had already been under the bed, before he moved it. This really was a plan. Cass set the bottle on the side table and scooted further back, propping himself up in the mound of pillows. What in the world…

“I- want you.” Cassian’s throat bobbed, lips parted, “Inside me.”

“...what.” he blinked slowly, shaking his head, he must've misheard, _“How?”_

“You might have to think a little… creatively.” Cass murmured.

He still didn't understand and Cass sighed, grabbing the bottle again. A little oil went over his fingers and his hand slipped down, past his throbbing cock, heavy sack, down-

His stomach dropped. He could only watch, dumbfounded, as those deft fingers circled and prodded, legs spreading wider as Cass sucked in a shuddering breath.

“It takes time, but it's _possible._ I've seen smaller men take just as much.” a fingertip dipped _in_ and Cass gasped, “And I want _you.”_

Eret couldn't speak. Didn't he say he had _practiced?_ With… his fingers? It looked like it hurt, how could this possibly be worth the trouble? He knew how big he was, what if-

“I- don't think this is a good idea.” he swallowed hard.

Cassian stilled, flushing almost guiltily, “... this was a lot to ask, I'm sorry-”

“No! No, it's- I don't want to _hurt_ you. You said it yourself, I'm not a small man.”

“You _won't,_ I'll only be sore. It's not so bad if you go slow.”

“Sore. _Here?”_ he raised a brow, giving the firm swell of his ass a squeeze, “What do we _do_ all day Cass? What if you're more than just a _little_ sore? The last thing you need is to fall off a dragon.”

Cassian pouted, then sighed, “Point taken…”

“Maybe… the next time we’re holed up by a storm.” he kissed Cass’s brow, “But, it- feels good?”

Slowly, _his husband_ nodded and eased his finger back _inside_ to the second joint, shuddering.

“About a finger-length in, there is a spot you can- rub, stroke, _tease_ and it's good, so _good._ I can still show you, this much won't hurt me any.” he insisted.

Eret settled back, kneeling between Cassian’s legs where he could see every twitch of muscle, the way pleasure coiled up his abdomen with every thrust of his finger. A few minutes of that careful work let Cass press a second finger in, ease knuckle-deep, the tendons danced over the back of his hand and he shuddered, hips jerking as his eyes fluttered shut. The _sweetest_ moan ripped from his throat and Eret couldn't just watch anymore, he _needed_ to touch, to-

“Can I?” he blurted, strangled to a whisper.

Cass trembled, nodded, and forced himself to stop, pulling a rag from under the pillow to wipe his hand. He grabbed the bottle himself and slicked his fingers, maybe a little too much, then prodded at the softened ring of muscle, just with the first two. He was slimmer about the knuckles than Cass, this should be fine, right? His lover made no protest, breathing deep to relax for him, to let him in, and he only moved when Cassian’s body yielded. He was burning hot inside, velvet-soft where his fingertips brushed up-

“There! God, _there-”_ Cass choked, grinding down on his hand.

In a panic, he froze and Cass ground against him again.

“Uh, now what do I do?” he asked helplessly.

Cass took a steadying breath, “Thrust past that spot, maybe roll around it, just- _gently.”_

He nodded, though Cassian’s eyes were closed. Shifting side to side and scooting his hips back, he settled down on his elbows and hitched one of Cass’s legs over his shoulder. He had been neglecting himself for so long, just for _some_ relief he rutted against the sheets, groaning low as he sucked a mark into the seam of Cassian’s thigh. It was time to spoil his husband for a change, and he started with another careful press of his fingers. Cass’s cock _twitched_ , weeping over his taut stomach as his back arched… and Eret had yet to return the favor, for that day in the hot springs. He swallowed, licked his lips, and ducked down to lave his tongue up the underside of that dark cock, tracing a throbbing vein back down as he _rolled_ his fingers deep. Cassian bucked like a wild dragon, _singing_ for him.

 _“Eret!”_ he rasped, dragging fingers through his hair, “You don't have to-”

 _“Want_ to. Just lay back.” he ordered.

Cassian shook, barely able to keep himself up on one elbow, especially when he gave a proper, _long_ thrust with his fingers. It took a little shifting to wrap his free arm around Cass’s thigh and hip to get a proper hold on his cock, stroking a few times before taking the flushed tip into his mouth. The skin was salty, bitter, but plush against his tongue, lips… oh no _wonder_ Cass had been so intent of giving this to him. It was a struggle to focus, on keeping his teeth out of the way, fingers moving, on _pleasing_ him, but the desperate cries above were all the proof he needed that he was doing well.

“So good, _Eret_ you're so good-” Cass babbled, grabbing his hair again.

With a particularly _wicked_ curl of his tongue, Cassian’s hips bucked, forcing his cock deeper, deep as he could, he _should've_ gagged… but he didn't. It was hard to breathe but he could _hold_ Cass there, trying to swallow around him as he curled and dragged his fingers slowly back. A weak moan was all the warning he got before _heat_ flooded his mouth, bitter but tolerable. He swallowed again on reflex, slowly pulling back to free his throat and he let Cass slip free once the last twitches ceased against his tongue. He snatched the rag to wipe his hand and… oh, oh _gods_ the way Cass slumped into the pillows, lids still fluttering with pure bliss as his chest heaved, pulse thundered in the cords of his neck. He _throbbed,_ and didn't even think about rising to his knees, stroking once, twice, _finally_ reaching that perfect release and spilling over his hand, Cass’s stomach, hips, _groin-_

He shuddered, weak and nearly boneless, but cleaned that up too, then stoppered the bottle and pulled the covers over them both. Who cared if the sun was still mostly-up, that was so damn _good._ Cassian had the wits to roll into his arms and nuzzle into his chest, still gasping for breath as the sweat cooled on his brow.

“That was-” Cassian rasped, then shivered as Eret dragged fingers down his spine.

 _“You_ were beautiful.” he insisted, kissing _his husband’s_ brow.

“You say that like your fingers weren’t up my-”

 _“Stunning.”_ he interrupted, kissing him proper and deep, “Wild, so raw and _alive,_ there's no one like you on this earth. _No one_ has the wit, the strength, tenacity-”

“Except _you.”_ Cass kissed him in turn, “Your passion, your will, the _sweetness_ under all the scars… Even _that_ night I knew you weren’t what anyone claimed, you were _more._ So much more…”

A few more breathless kisses passed between them as they lost their grip on words.

“I love you.”

“I love you…”


	25. Chapter 25

Eret was right, he _was_ sore. Only a little, but more surely would’ve wrecked him for the day. For now, he was more than happy to bathe in the heat of _his husband’s_ body, feel his heart, his breath, that _life_ all around him. But… there were things to do. They had to organize their gifts, pick up the puppy… Father would probably be leaving soon, he had to get going on his trip after all. And that _panged_ in his heart. How had he bonded so quickly? He didn't miss the man who brought him into the world anywhere near as much as he missed the father-in-law who wasn't even _gone_ yet. Father had so much love he was _desperate_ to give, the man who named him always looked on with disappointment in his eyes. If he had to choose, it was no contest. He would be a son of Eret. 

“My love...” he murmured, kissing his husband's lips, cheeks, brow-

Eret grunted, wrinkling his nose and burrowing deeper into the pillows.

“Husband?” he tried again, brushing the fall of raven hair back.

A long sigh, bordering on a snore.

“Eret.” he pouted, now tickling up his side.

Still nothing. The _audacity,_ he had barely done anything yesterday! Cassian sighed, he could at least get breakfast started and have it ready, maybe start sorting things… He wiggled out of bed, so very reluctantly, slipping into fresh clothes before lurching down the steps one by one. Moving sent a dull twinge through his core, but… it was a _good_ ache, not debilitating by any means. He still found himself wanting _more._ Another night, hopefully soon. He stoked the fire, set water to boil, then gathered and carefully folded their wedding clothes, rolled up the belts, and brought it all upstairs. The cloak too, he hung from the pegs on the wall. Their sword belts, he fiddled with while the porridge cooked. Both had four metal rings to wind a cable on the scabbards through, it would hold firmly for sure. The sheaths for his knives were joined as one, overlapping slightly to save space and angled so the handles would sit behind each hip. It would take a little getting used to, but they had time. The quiver too could lash to the bandolier belt with a cord and rings. It was beautifully made, with a sort of stiff collar covering most of the opening. That would keep the arrows from rattling or falling out, absolutely _brilliant._ The dagger was small, helpfully utilitarian and wickedly stunning besides. The journals and belt-bags would be perfect for the trip, it was all just… perfect.

Eret joined him eventually, only half-awake but still so loving, greeting him with a kiss.

“My husband, I love you dearly, but you need pants.” he chuckled, kissing him again.

Eret just grunted, burrowing into his neck. Well, he could appreciate the view for now and he _did,_ smoothing his palms up Eret’s sides, hips, scratching down his spine… Eret sighed quite blissfully, finally rousing enough to stand up straight. A voice whizzed over his head, Datura’s, singing a warning. **Coming** , with **kin** and the **not-dragon**. He stiffened and pushed Eret towards the stairs, with more force when he resisted.

 _“Father_ is coming you limpet, go! Get your _pants-”_ he huffed.

That finally got Eret scrambling back up the stairs, and he was thankfully presentable by the time a knock came at the door. He let their father in, silently **thanking** Datura, and stooped to greet the puppy when it finally followed. It was a bit hesitant, unsure, sniffing the floor before every step. But if this creature didn't have the _sweetest_ face-

“Oh, we need a _name_ for you, sweetest little cloud…” he cooed, rubbing it's ears.

“Oi, paws off! Don't even think it!” Eret stumbled back down, _“I_ finally get a turn!”

“You named half the Light Furies! And you wanted to name Foxglove _Codfish.”_ he pouted.

“Firstly, _that_ was a joke. Second, the Furies weren't a wedding gift, and lil Crush, Mira and Idunna are perfectly fine names.” Eret tugged a lock of his hair as he passed.

“Practicing your bickering already?” Father chuckled, sweeping Eret into a hug.

“Yeah, sure.” he rolled his eyes and hugged back.

The puppy scurried after them both, panting and pawing at Eret’s trousers. But something pulled at Father’s smile, weighed down his shoulders…

“We’re, ah… gonna have to get goin tomorrow. Europa awaits.” he sniffed, blinking rapidly, “Might take about… three months, maybe four to get there. The boys are itching to sail.”

The room felt suddenly cold and small, and… he didn't want Eret sr. to go. He tucked between them, wrapping his arms over both their shoulders.

“That's about when we intend to leave. We might just catch you in al-Mariyah.” he said weakly.

“Well, we _could_ use a translator to broker some deals.” Father tried to chuckle, failed, and mumbled, “For the first time in my life… I want to stay put.”

“If you ever want to retire…” Eret hesitated, just a beat, “There's plenty of room on Berk.”

“...you really mean that?”

“Would I offer if I didn't?” Eret sighed, “I haven't asked the chief yet, but I don't see why he’d say no. It's more for formality and… you can't sail forever Dad. What if something _happened_ out there, we would never know.”

“The sea hasn't bested me yet-”

“It only needs to _once.”_ Cassian cut in, “You aren't immortal and neither are we. After all this time, you deserve peace.”

Father could say nothing, and held them all the tighter.

“I _just_ got you back, I- there's too much I've missed.” Eret said, sniffling.

“Knew it was comin’ eventually.” Father mumbled, “This venture might've been my last trip anyway.”

“You can stop on the way back, whatever you decide. And, we _will_ try to meet you there.” he said.

“I like the sound of that… you can give the _both_ of us the grand tour-”

“Sails, on the horizon!” someone shouted, and the alarm spread.

“Sails? Who could it possibly…” Eret muttered.

Cassian’s blood ran cold. Foxglove was in the den and already waking from the noise. **Up,** he urged, **go** see, show me, and she blearily **acknowledged.** He peeled away from the crush of arms and stuffed his feet into his seal boots, threw on his new scale vest and fumbled with the toggles as he **called** to Tyrian.

“Cass? What’s going on?” Eret asked.

“That _could_ be Ragnar and if it is, he has _children_ with him. I have to get out there.” he fumbled with the buckle of his sword belt, shifting it into place.

Foxglove thrilled at the window, showing exactly what he feared: the dark-hulled twin-mast ship. He bolted to the door, ignoring his husband and Father to throw himself at Tyrian’s saddle. He couldn't settle fast enough, he _felt_ the wall of **fury** before he even saw Toothless.

“Up! _Up_ we have to stop them-” he barked, and the Nadder bolted.

There, there they were, a black arrow heading out to sea. Hiccup was too far, but- **Wait!** He begged, **wait,** Ori and Dunni might still be aboard, please don't hurt them, **please.** Toothless shook his head, **insult** and **defiance** rippled through him but… also a **question**. Cassian showed him the bits of memory as quick as he could. These children _loved_ Tyrian and the Nadder confirmed it. They pulled closer, until the dragons flew side by side and Hiccup stared hard.

“You're _sure_ about the kids?”

 _“Yes_ chief. He knows the rules, he wouldn't bring them here for no reason!” he blurted, “Please, let me speak with them. They know us.”

He didn't miss Hiccup’s eyes flicking to his knives before he nodded, but the chief’s face was still stormy. 

Ragnar was mad, he _had_ to be, coming to Berk after all their threats?! Tyrian dove, landing hard before the cabin while Toothless perched at the rail, spines split to flare blue as dragons roused all over the island. What crew remained above deck hunkered by barrels or up in the bow, wary…

But unarmed.

“Ragnar!” he shouted, “This was _not_ wise. Explain yourself!”

“Coming! Coming-” the man scurried into the open.

He shifted strangely, supporting a bulge under his cloak with one arm.

“So! We found something down south beyond our… expertise.” Ragnar winced, “And by ‘we’ I mean Ori. He wandered off you see, and found _this_ in a ravine…”

He hitched the bundle and his cloak _peeped,_ until a small head thrust out of the folds. Bright eyes blinked and the poor, strange beast whined **bright, cold.** It might've been a baby Windwolf, but it looked sickly. Of course that boy would meet a dragon once then _immediately_ start rescuing them. He slipped from the saddle and Toothless rumbled low, **wary,** but he and Tyrian both **assured** him.

“Where did you find it?” he asked as he approached.

“Little island on the west of Angleland, it was _all_ skin and bones when he got to it. About… three weeks ago? It's been slow to eat.” Ragnar pulled the dragon out completely.

It _was_ thin, all skin and bones and dull blue scales, but it stared intently at him when he greeted it with a soft **hello.** It peeped, wanting **pack, kin.** The poor thing, it must've been lost, or abandoned, maybe even the runt of the litter.

“Daddy! Dad-” Ori bolted out of the back room and stumbled to a stop.

His eyes trained on Toothless, then Berk and _all_ the dragons circling there.

 _“Woah…”_ he gasped, “Can we go see?!”

“No! No, not today, we’re just sailing by!” Ragnar said quickly, nervously glancing at Hiccup.

The Windwolf though, it scrabbled for the boy, whining **kin.**

“It's bonded with you.” Cassian took those last steps closer, “Ori, you've been caring for it?”

The boy nodded and the _pride_ in his smile was enough to make his heart ache.

“They're pack-bonders, family ties are strong.” as he thought, the hatchling snapped at his fingers when he offered them, “You and your father are kin now, as far as it's concerned, Dunni and your mother too I’d wager. If you were looking to pass it over Ragnar… I don't think it would survive the separation.”

The ex-warlord wouldn't believe the dragonspeak, he had to be careful about what he said.

Ori brightened, yanking on his father’s arm, “So we can keep him? We can keep him right?!”

“Uh-” Ragnar blanched, looking from the hatchling to Hiccup on the rail-

Not on the rail, Hiccup dismounted and walked towards them, tall and unyielding. But the hatchling glowered, **wary** and defiant even for him. And he was _thinking._

“What've you been feeding him?” Hiccup asked, even and slow.

“Fish!” Ori answered, “But he doesn't like the bony parts.”

“Try to feed him some small fish whole, they need more than just meat. Crabs and squid too, if you can find them. But _never_ eels, that will make him sick.” Hiccup instructed, then looked to Ragnar, _“This_ is what you sailed all the way here for? You knew our agreement.”

“Only partly. I believe… _tribute_ is traditional in these sorts of arrangements. And our trip was far more successful than I dared hope. We must've arrived in a gap between suppliers, even the little wood we had was gone inside an hour! The furs too. Ori, go tell Ulrik to bring that crate up-” Ragnar gave his son a nudge, “And, you were right about the silk. _Incredible_ stuff. Managed to trade for a… scarf? Sort of a scarf, and some ribbons.”

Hiccup kept an impassive face, but Cassian could _see_ the interest creasing around his eyes. He certainly hadn't implied this, but the prospect of goods from _home_ ... Two men lurched across the deck, carrying a shallow chest between them that they set on top of a barrel before throwing the lid back. He rushed to it and the scents of _home_ had him reeling. Braids of garlic, fist-sized bundles of dried herbs, stacks of block-printed cotton cloth, _was that cinnamon?!_ Wait, Ragnar was talking.

“-though I must confess, I have _no_ idea what half of it is.” the sailor shrugged.

“You are giving, as _tribute_ , things you have no experience with.” Hiccup raised one sharp brow.

“I figured he would know.” Ragnar pointed sheepishly his way.

“It's herbs, cloth, spices-” he gasped, _“Ginger!_ And mint, salt from… that's a Dead Sea seal I think.”

Hiccup finally came to look for himself, squinting as he peered in and around the shifting bundles and jars. He reached over to pull out one of the bolts of cotton, white printed with red flowers.

“That comes the way of the Byzantines. Cotton is light, like linen, but a little tougher. It would make a beautiful dress.” he said, a little slyly.

“You said ‘ginger’ helped?” Hiccup asked more quietly.

“Astrid’s still sick?” his heart dropped, and the chief nodded once, “Yes, it would. Mint too, as a tea. They could be steeped together with a little honey.”

“Then we’ll take it.”

Hiccup dropped the cloth back in the chest, closed the lid, and marched back to Ragnar.

“If you're going to ‘sail by’ again, fly a white flag off your mast, and only _one_ ship is to come this close to Berk.” he said, firm but level for Ori’s sake, “And I expect to see this dragon in better health next time.”

Ragnar nodded, back ramrod straight until Toothless and Hiccup were out of sight.

“This was _very_ risky Ragnar.” Cassian said, trying to push his excitement aside, “You really came to _Berk_ for a chest of herbs?”

“I… was hoping to pass the dragon off too. I didn't want to tempt the others back into old habits, but if it has to stay…” he sighed, patting his son’s head, “You sparked a _fire_ in him, and he wouldn't take no for an answer once he found it. I'll just have to do the same.”

He nodded, then frowned, scanning the ship, “Where’s Dunni? I expected her to come running.”

“Just asleep. The sea was a bit rough, her and Milla were up sick all night.” Ragnar sighed.

“And _I_ stayed away from the rails…” Ori muttered.

“Did you get more ginger? That knobbly root.” he asked.

“A little, yes. Fella seemed eager to be rid of it.” Ragnar shrugged.

“Must've been trying to clear his stock. But, if you slice it thin and crush some into the bottom of a cup, steep that in hot water for tea, it can help. The flavor will be strong, but it's good for the stomach.” he explained.

Ragnar nodded, lips pursing, “And, the rest?”

“For cooking. You can put the leafy herbs into stews whole, the likes of cinnamon and clove can spice your mead. It only takes a little, warm it slow in a kettle. Garlic you have to mince and fry first as you cook, or rub that and crushed pepper into a roast… _God_ I missed garlic.” he sighed wistfully.

“Incoming!” a crewman barked.

He wheeled, throwing himself in front of Ori on instinct-

Skullcrusher, Pippin, and their riders banked over the bow of the ship, rumbling **warily.** He scrubbed his face, groaning long and low.

“Really? The _both_ of you?” he said to no one.

“Isn't that-” Ragnar croaked.

“My husband, the man you _held hostage?_ Yes.” he sniffed, biting back more venom.

Ragnar stared for a long moment, “You- that wasn't a joke?”

“Why would I joke about being engaged?”

“No idea!” Ragnar blurted, throwing up a hand in surrender.

The crew scattered from the center of the boat so there the dragons landed, huffing and tossing their heads. Cassian turned on his heel and marched across the deck, muttering through his exasperation in his mother tongue, some real _choice_ words.

“I am _fine,_ you didn't need to come charging out here!” he groused.

Tyrian **scolded** in his own way, headbutting Skullcrusher’s flank. _Gently_ of course, as Eret dismounted.

”I don't trust ‘im Cass.” Eret snarled, face storming.

“I don't either. But I'm not going to make a scene for the children’s sake, they are innocent in this and _our_ ways are already spreading! The boy saved a dragon and now it won't be parted from him. _This_ is exactly what we wanted to see.” he said, quick and close, barely a whisper, “We keep an eye on whoever needs watching, and let _this_ flourish. These children have already made the first steps forward. The only thing I trust about Ragnar is his love for them.”

Eret scowled, and Father clapped a hand on his shoulder.

 _“Easy_ son…” he muttered, “The man already looks fit to drop. I think he's scared enough, for our purposes.”

“Fine.” Eret sneered.

 _“Ow!_ Wee beast- Ori no, wait!”

He glanced back and the boy was charging across the ship, with the little Windwolf over his shoulders.

“Be _nice.”_ he warned.

 _“Fine.”_ Eret rolled his eyes.

The dragons welcomed Ori at least, sniffing and thrumming, but the Windwolf hissed and swatted at Tyrian’s nose when the Nadder moved towards the boy’s hair. The hatchling growled low, **possessive,** hunkering around Ori’s neck. That behavior couldn't continue…

“They _are_ pack dragons.” he said again, “They need someone to teach them how to behave, and he sees _you_ as the leader of his pack. It will be a lot of responsibility, raising him right. He will be as a brother to you, so you have to be patient and kind, but _firm_ when you must. So when he snaps at someone’s fingers-”

He reached for the dragon’s head and it lunged, little teeth bared.

“You have to tell him no. Calm him down gently, encourage _good_ behavior.”

Ori nodded, face set with determination. The Windwolf growled and he pressed a finger to it's nose until it quieted, looking expectantly to him.

“That's not _nice.”_ he huffed, “You don't have to fuss at everyone, they're friends!”

The Windwolf sighed, and licked the boy’s finger with a mute **apology.** Ori giggled and scratched it's chin. When Cassian spared a look back, the hard lines of Eret’s face softened, almost to a smile.

They had to let the boat move on, so Tyrian hauled the chest back, directly to the Great Hall. _Technically,_ as tribute it was all property of the chief. But with Hiccup’s amused permission, that night turned into an exhibition of herbs and spices. He set a whole cask of mead to mull by the fire with cinnamon, clove and anise, and minced then fried two head’s worth of garlic in a little butter with a few pinches of thyme. Once that was cool, it was folded into more softened butter for their bread. Sprigs of rosemary and thyme went into the stew with fine salt and pepper, God's mercy _real pepper,_ but Astrid still looked positively green. So as soon as he was able, he made a mug of ginger-mint tea with plenty of honey. She grimaced at the first taste, less at the second, and by the third she drained the cup all in one go, then ate the ginger at the bottom for good measure. The relief washing off Hiccup and Valka was palpable, even across the room.

Father had to go, off to al-Mariyah. They would meet him there, and over the summer… they could get a nice cottage built. Right on the cliffs, maybe closer to the smithy. Gobber might just enjoy that, and it was so sweet seeing those smiles on their faces, after all this time. Oh, he _had_ noticed all those late nights in the Great Hall, but their meddling was over. Everyone had come to bid him goodbye, crowding around the head of the path down to the docks; himself and Eret, Gobber, the puppy Snowdrop, Grump, Pippin, the hatchlings and the whole rest of the pack. The conflict between Berk above and the ship below was plain as day on Father’s face, and as he twisted in pain, Cassian pulled him into a crushing hug with Eret joining right after. They all sniffled hard, blinked back tears… the sea was treacherous at any time of year, there was still so much _risk._ But Eret sr. still had to forge a path forward for the men that still sailed with him.

“Don't have too much fun without me.” Father said, wet and weak.

“We make no promises.” he squeezed all the tighter, “Go safely, with the wind and tide.”

“We’ll be riding in with the dragons. If you get to port before we do, there’ll be no missing us. So-” Eret’s breath hitched hard, “ _Please,_ be careful.”

Father nodded, sniffling again, “I’ll do m’best.”

The dragons weren't content to wait. Foxglove, Datura, Lantana, Nightshade, all filed past one by one, rubbing against Father’s back, shoulders, thrumming along with their **sorrow.** Pippin got her own goodbye once they untangled, Beachcomber and Loadstone too, then Grump, and Father stopped before Gobber. After a moment of hesitation, they shook hands firmly. But, there was still a certain bashfulness to their smiles, a rosy glow to their cheeks. Yes, Berk would be good for him, once this was over. Hopefully for the last time, they watched their father take the long walk down, until the ship pushed away from the dock and turned south, into the wind.

***

The scrub-brushes for Tower Island were done, and ready to move. They were clever things, tufts of bound straw packed into sockets drilled all over whole tree trunks, almost like a big round broom. They had ten to leave all over the island, and dozens of sacks to gather all the scales that were bound to slough off. But Eret was especially interested in more Light Fury scales, for _reasons._ Sure they needed to have stock to trade, but he wanted some of his own in reserve for other projects. Cass looked damn good in Fury scales, it wasn't his fault. Maybe a cloak to match his own, white wool and pale fur… Nope, thoughts for later.

It took a little finnicking to get the brushes and extra lumber trussed to haul all the way there, and they needed a whole team to do it. Cloudjumper, Tyrian, Meatlug, Barf&Belch, Hookfang, Fanghook, Nightshade, Sunset, and two Windstrikers would be doing all the heavy lifting, with their riders of course. Toothless, Lantana, Datura, Rune and Skullcrusher couldn’t really carry the loads safely, but they were needed too. Fishlegs was _beside_ himself with excitement, even Snotlout and Gustav were buzzing the whole way there. Hiccup was pensive, nervous even, leaving Astrid behind. But this close to the baby arriving, they just couldn't _risk_ a trip, and she eventually agreed. However reluctantly. Three more months and the little Haddock would be here… It weighed on the whole village, the anticipation, excitement, the worry even. But Gobber could handle Berk for three-ish days, same as last time. They would set everything up this evening, teach the dragons how to use them, then spend all tomorrow gathering and sorting the scales, then back home. Easy. Once they explained to Alpha anyway, Hiccup and Toothless would get that done first.

Tower Island was in view by sundown, and Toothless shot ahead to announce their arrival. They met up again at the fringes of the island and with the Alpha’s blessing, they split into teams. He peeled off after Cass and Nightshade, to a pretty little lake with a gravelly shore surrounded by forest, where they wouldn't lose any scales to mud or grass. The dragons set their loads down, glad to be rid of them, and he grabbed the shovel from the back of Skullcrusher’s saddle before hopping off himself.

“So, first one. Let's get the holes dug… What I wouldn't give for a tiny Whispering Death.” he huffed, stomping the blade of his shovel into the ground.

“That would be most helpful. At least it's only two.” Cass offered.

“Yeah, I guess. And the dragons can help get these things _in.”_

They got to work, keenly aware of all the eyes on them. There were fewer dragons here by far and they seemed to be in better sorts now that there was more food to go around. But they were wary. Polite, but wary. With the digging done, they lashed the brush to it's support (all rope, no hammers allowed at Hiccup’s order), and levered the whole piece up until the ends tipped into their holes. Crush and Nightshade held the frame steady while they filled around the posts with gravel and some sort of special clay slurry that Tyrian helped bake solid. There were more eyes now, lurking in the shadows just beyond the tree line. Nightshade rubbed her cheek against the brush to demonstrate for their little audience. 

“I think they get it. Let's put the next a little further down, and space the holes a little farther apart so the brush is less tall. So they can get around their wings.” Cass said, grabbing his shovel again.

By the time the second scrubber was done, a curious Nightmare had emerged from the trees to sniff the logs. With Tyrian’s encouragement, it slowly dragged it's jaw along the bristles. It chirped in **delighted** surprise and quickly put the device to work-

He froze as that foreign sensation _crawled_ through his head, in and out his ears. Then a new feeling bloomed like a breath over the back of his neck. Spinning on his heel, he found Nightshade staring and that warmth brushed over his brow, cheeks, **asking** him… what? His head spun, he swayed, and Cassian was suddenly _there_ to catch him.

“Eret?” the voice, a _human_ one, came in his ear.

“I-” words failed him, but that warmth returned as Nightshade nudged his arm.

Words without words, feelings, ideas, isn't that was Cass said dragon voices were like?

“I think I _heard_ them.” he finally muttered, shaking the buzz from his head. It didn't work.

 _“What?!”_ Cass took him by the shoulders, eyes wide.

“Nightshade, that Nightmare-” he grunted as his vision blurred, “It's all _around_ my head.”

“Yes, that's- Here, sit, I'll get the water.”

Cass steered him to where the grass thickened, easing him to the ground. He lay back, covering his eyes against the fading light. His head ached already, but Skullcrusher and Tyrian and that Nightmare were coming closer, he could _see_ them somehow, like sparks, or candles in the distance. All in his _head._

“Up, you should drink something.” Cassian sat beside him, and the warmth was an anchor, something to focus on.

A hand curled under his neck and he reluctantly followed it's pull upwards. He wasn't so far gone that he couldn't handle a waterskin at least… But when he opened his eyes again, Cassian looked to him at once eager and worried, brushing his hair back, tucking it behind his ears. It tickled, but he _loved_ that delicate touch and leaned into it.

“I suppose it feels strange.” Cass sighed, slipping a little more behind him.

“Yeah… Like crawling bugs at first, but Nightshade was… soft somehow. Nice. i can't quite make heads or tails of it yet, but it's _them._ ” thank Odin his head was finally clearing-

Nightshade chuffed and that warmth returned, almost **prideful** and **smug** from the compliment. That- was almost coherent that time.

“Scratch that, apparently Shade’s a bit vain.” he snorted. That wasn't so bad.

But the Sickle-Scale glowered with some kind of sour **offense** that dragged through his hair like claws. Cass shifted a little more and coaxed him to lie back, and rest in his lap. He breathed deep, exhaled slow, and focused on Cassian’s fingers scratching over his scalp, down his neck, and the world went quiet.

“Better?”

“A little. Head aches a bit.” he grimaced, but Cass rubbed his thumbs in slow circles over his temples.

“Yes, that will happen… probably quite a lot. Try not to focus too hard on those feelings. The more you let them in, the harder it is to pull back out.” his husband warned.

“I think I can block them out well enough, don't hear anything _now._ Don't know where to start, actually talking to them…” his heart skipped a beat, _“Lantana.”_

Cassin twitched under him, fingertips skittering over his cheeks.

“Eret, I _know_ it's tempting, but you have time to look. For all you've told me to be careful, _please_ heed your own advice. We can try, but slowly.”

He pressed his lips tight and nodded. He would be one hell of a hypocrite if he ran off and did exactly what he _begged_ Cass not to do. There was time to hone this skill, and Lantana wasn't going anywhere.

“We need to meet back up with the others, before they worry.” he sighed, “And, let's try to catch Hiccup or Valka alone to fill them in. no need to make a scene.”

Cass hummed in agreement, dropping a kiss on his brow before they unfolded themselves. The Nightmare had gone, but he could already see a pile of scales below the scrubber. He looked to Cassian, the both shrugged, gathered the scales and dumped them all into one of their sacks. Not a bad start, and they could worry about sorting later.

“Think we can lure more Light Furies out? Those might be worth their weight in gold.” he mused.

“True. Or-” Cass leaned closer to his ear, “Perhaps you’re _scheming_ again?”

“Maybe…” he grumbled, ears burning.

Cassian laughed, so brightly, and they got themselves back in the saddle to find the others. The camp was still lively when they crested the cliff edge, up on a high and clear plateau with all the riders and their dragons gathered around a fire. With a little focus, he could see-without-seeing those **sparks** of other dragons watching from the trees, plateaus, all around them. He was so lost in that, he didn't notice one spark until it blazed brighter- _the Alpha._ He knew that somehow, just _knew_ down in his marrow, though he couldn't even see her in the gloom and long grass. That **touch** came, like fingers curling under his chin to turn his gaze down, where the firelight glinted off the Fury’s eyes. With a touch, Skullcrusher wheeled and landed close, he was faintly aware of confusion from Tyrian and Nightshade but… the Alpha **called.** It was like she _knew,_ and reeled him in like a lost hatchling with such tender care. Unthinking, he dropped out of the saddle and shuffled closer until he stood between her huge paws, looking upwards as she brushed her nose over his brow. _Something_ thrummed all around him, like a welcoming hug down to his soul-

“Eret?”

Like breaking through ice, he was back in his own head, seeing with his own eyes, and Cass was holding his hand. He staggered back a step and sneezed. So _that's_ what that was like.

“Sorry, she just… wanted to say hi. It's like she knew, she called to me. That's as much as I can explain.” he frowned, wracking his brain, “It felt so much like a touch, I thought you said it was emotions and all that?”

“It is for _me._ Maybe you're of a different lineage of some kind, like a language within a language. And… you _are_ the second generation, who knows what that could change. Hiccup might have more insight.” Cass sighed, looking back to camp.

“Nightshade feels the same way…” he squeezed Cassian’s hand, “Why can't we hear each other though? If we can talk to _them_ this way, and hear back… shouldn't we be able to?”

“I've never tried to be honest, I didn't exactly want _Hiccup_ in my head. Maybe in a bit we could try, once you've rested.” Cass paused, then looked to Alpha, “Oh. Lantana was excited to tell her about you, and your mother. You're _kin_ to them in a way, same as me with the Sickle-Scales.”

“Huh. Guess Furies stick together.” he mused, then yawned, “I'm starving, let's settle in. Night, uh- Toothless’s mom? Boss? Ma’am?”

Cassian snickered, even the Fury **laughed,** and he pouted. But that touch returned, fanning out from his back like phantom wings, chaining into a **sense** of… flying, and holding the sky- no, beyond that, the _stars._ Didn't Cass say dragon names were weird? That was _certainly_ strange, and poetic enough to be a name but why could he understand it? Maybe because it was more tactile? Cass seemed to be particularly good with memories, they must be seeing parts of the whole spectrum of what dragons were capable of.

“I _think…”_ he paused, gathering his thoughts, “Her name’s something like ‘Carries the Stars’. It's… more like a summary of _herself_ than a name as we know it, hard to translate.”

“Wow…” Cass breathed, leaning against his shoulder, “What about Toothless?”

“I thought I wasn't supposed to go crazy with the dragonspeak?” he snorted, “But-”

Carries-the-Stars was already showing him. He could **feel** himself sprinting on all fours, grass tickled his legs and belly, hidden in the dark of night, the silence-

“‘Hunter in the Night’? Or, ‘-in the Grass’, could be either. Maybe both? Kinda a long one.” he shrugged, “Then her mate was… ‘Dancing Around the Moon’.”

“It suits him… the both of them I mean. She showed me, a little-” Cass gripped his hand tighter, “I can't hear their names, not in a way I can understand. What if you…”

His smile fell. If he could do what Cass couldn't, on the other side of that coin he might not be able to do everything Cass could. Like, seeing the memories Carries-the-Stars had been sharing at the same time. There… might be other ways to see what Lantana had experienced. He could hear their voices a little at least.

“Let's go lay down…” he sighed, somehow wishing the Fury goodnight.

“There's time Eret, we can still try. Who knows what's possible, if you can see what _I_ couldn't.”

“Maybe tomorrow, I'm… just tired.”

Cassian said nothing more, and they joined the riders for food, and to sleep. In the silence and the darkness, there were little candle-flames of the dragons all around and above them but where Cassian lay at his side, there was nothing. So, he could **see** dragons, even identify by that spark alone, and **feel** some sort of hidden language. That was more than nothing, but why now? Valka and Cassian both said something about shedding blood with them, and he had bled _plenty._ They just didn't know enough about all this…

He dreamed, like he hadn’t in a long while. He was flying on Lantana, and they wove in and out of great billowing clouds. But he was far too small, his legs couldn't even straddle her neck. Huge hands around his middle, his whole _torso_ kept him pressed firmly in place against something, so warm against his back. Below, he could just see a familiar beach, wing-sailed boats, houses, his old _village_ . Laughter filled the air all around him, so bright and sweet, a _woman’s_ laughter. He turned, looking up and over his shoulder which was far harder than it should be, and _his mother_ was there. She smiled down at him, nose and cheeks reddened by the cold, tears whipped from her eyes by the wind, and she was so _alive._ Lantana wobbled through a rough breeze and Mother clutched him all the tighter, silent in fear at first but the laughter was not gone for long…

Eret woke in a haze, half-buried under a dragon. Lantana had pulled him close in the night, tucked him under her wing like an egg and Datura had joined them for good measure. The Fury seemed to wake as he did, lifting her wing away to sniff him all over and she _buzzed_ with… he wasn't sure, but it coiled in his spine and set his heart racing. Excitement, lingering thrill from the **dream.** Was that all-

“Tana, that was _yours_ wasn't it?” he dared ask.

She chirped, and now that he was more awake he could feel the **yes** that she sent back.

“I see you figured it out then. You could see my memories already, that dream was yours… How about we give that another shot?” he finally sat upright, easing Datura’s head into his lap.

Lantana hummed, auricles twitching as she thought, and that strange sensation of phantom limbs took over again. He could **feel** wings, a tail, wind tickling ear flaps instead of hair, but that was all. No vision came with it, how could that be? He saw in the dream- maybe that was the tradeoff. That was still something, he _saw_ her.

“We can practice later. It's all still a little new, you know?” he shrugged, “But, I can understand your names, the way you say them. Let's try.”

That brought Lantana’s spirits right back, but what she told him was so wildly different from last night. Her name was a ripple of color, the same as her scales, all mashed together with the shape of one of the strange cave mushrooms, the creepy ones that looked like fingers. Datura was the same flash of color over a shelf mushroom, the fluted ones. How _bizarre._

“Yeah, there really isn't any way to say that out loud.” he chuckled, “So, Lantana it’ll have to be for the likes of us.”

She thrummed, **content** with their name it seemed, and nuzzled into his hair. All that chatting hadn't messed with his head too much, what a relief…

“So, think we can get the other Furies together for some scrubbing? We’ve got some collecting to do, best get started.”

***

His bow was beautiful, and it had the kick of a damn warhorse. Even at half-draw it knocked most targets flat, leaving his chest and back burning with the effort of a day’s practice. But it was getting easier, and he had to be at his _best._

“Good! We’ll need to build up your speed, you could pull something trying to hold a full draw for too long.” Eret handed a few more arrows over.

“I see your point…” he winced, shaking out his hand, “My old bow _is_ right there, you could be practicing too. Show me all those family secrets.”

Eret frowned, and his fingers twitched, “I… can't. Not anymore.”

“What happened?” his smile fell. Of _course,_ the scars…

His husband’s frown deepened, and he flushed red as he mumbled something.

“Eret?”

“I… dropped a barrel on my hand once, broke three fingers. Haven't really been able to draw a bow properly since.” he finally said, “The splint was _torture._ But, that's how I got half decent fighting left-handed. Funny the way life works.”

“I'm sorry… That must’ve been awful.”

“My own fault really, wasn't paying attention.” Eret shrugged.

“Why don't we wrap up for the day? There are still chests and packs to finish.” he said.

Eret nodded and they gathered their gear for a quiet _walk_ home for a change. Saddles could only hold so much, so their flock would need to help not only with supplies and their trading stock, but everything they were bringing back. The Reapers were perfectly built to carry a trunk with their claws, and Nightshade and Foxglove could wear some sort of saddlebag over their backs. They would need to cook, fish, hunt, and find safe places to sleep on the road since inns would be out of the question. The dragons could keep watch at least, but Crucible had been acting… strange lately. The Wraiths had been digging frantically to expand the burrow, Crucible rarely flew and even seemed to be hoarding food, but she insisted she was fine. If she wasn't fit to travel, Andarax wouldn't leave her side. Maybe they _would_ have to enlist more of the Light Furies, Lantana at the very least.

***

It was a month to Midsummer, and all was well. Sure village life was always busy, but he and Cass still spent long evenings and rainy days sorting their stock of scales, preparing for the trip… Or building a cabin on the lower banks. Hiccup had agreed of course, he _knew_ what this meant to the both of them, but he picked the location himself. It was a _little_ out of sight, around the corner of the great cliffs that overlooked the docks, and just down the path from the smithy. The home would be small, all one story with a small loft for storage, a wide warm hearth, plenty of shelves, and some basic furniture thanks to all the apprentice carpenters. Of course, there was a shelter around the back over an outcrop of rock for Pippin. The posts, lintels, walls, roof and chimney went up quickly with some help from the village, but the rest they worked on together. They hung doors and shutters, installed new glass windows, sanded down the floor, caulked joints and plastered the walls, then _finally_ stocked the shelves with crockery, glasses, jars, and everything else shy of food Dad would need. By the time they were finished it was nearly high summer and a _mischievous_ gleam had taken root in Cassian’s eyes. Well, his birthday _was_ coming up…

They woke on Midsummer as they did most other mornings: slowly, and smothered under Snowdrop. At least he wasn't scratching to go out yet. The dog sighed, wiggling closer to bathe his face in kisses as he buried his fingers in the thick ruff of fur. 

_“That's_ my sweet boy, I hope you're ready for a party.” he cooed.

Snow _wuffed_ and shoved his nose into the hands that tried to push him away. All the movement jostled Cassian awake, so he stretched and groaned and fought the space to kiss him good morning. He would _never_ tire of that.

“Well, happy birthday.” Cass hummed, voice still rough with sleep.

“Almost forgot about that.” he stole another kiss as Snow hopped off the bed, “So, what were you planning? You've had _that_ look all week.”

“Just one thing, in a bit. Perhaps a _bath_ is in order before preparations get too far along?” Cass grinned.

“Sounds good to _me_. I'm sure Fox can keep the dog busy for a bit. You baking again?”

“Yes, so we can wait to pretty ourselves up. No sense wearing flour all day.”

The routine was so well ingrained, neither had to think about packing their supplies and jumping on to Skullcrusher, who was already waiting at the door. He could faintly feel the way Crush scented and tracked the cave over dragons, humans, smoke, crushed pine, spilled ale, so _many_ smells he never would have noticed. But that faint whiff of steam and stone led them onward. He couldn't see the **sparks** of the Fury clan anywhere in the cave, only the Fireworms. They were so much more willing to venture out and mingle now, especially the young ones. That just meant they had the pools to themselves.

They settled in, content to just relax, wash, and not dally _too_ long. Didn't mean he couldn't admire his husband, and how he had only gotten _stronger._ His back and shoulders rippled with muscle, bunching and coiling as he shifted, leaned back into his chest and sighed low. But as Cassian’s head tilted, the scars on his cheeks flashed in the strange light. They had darkened a good deal, and the skin _warped_ ever-so-slightly, but he was no less beautiful for it. Such strong arms, a broad chest dusted with minute curls of hair he was a _little_ envious of, those same curls trailing from his navel down, down… He kissed Cass’s shoulder, up his neck to the very tip of his ear, until he shivered.

“Trying to _tempt_ me sailor?” Cassian goaded.

“And if I _am?”_ he teased right back.

“Well, we might be too tired _tonight,_ and it's still plenty early.” coy fingers trailed down his thighs.

“True. Perhaps something quick.” he murmured, palm smoothing down Cass’s stomach.

“And what does my husband desire?” _gods,_ the way his voice dropped-

“Sit up, on the edge.” he growled right in Cass’s ear.

“You really don't _have_ to-”

“I wouldn't if I didn't like it. Now, _up_ before I park you there myself.”

“As you command- Woah! _Eret!”_

Clean and refreshed, they returned to Berk to tackle the day. Cassian had a proper honey-apple wine _with spices_ already brewed and aging, and there was just enough of that weird bark he called ‘cinnamon’ to grind to a fine powder for the army of apple tarts. It was strange, at once earthy and warm, with a pungent kick that made him sneeze if he sniffed it too much. He wasn't quite sure if he liked it, same for the woody ‘nutmeg’ and tiny sprigs of ‘clove’. Astrid could _have_ all the ginger as far as he was concerned, that was just too much. The last of the garlic went to the roasts, as did the savory herbs, and Berk had never smelled better. But villagers were starting to peel away to get ready, and Cass caught him by the hand to do the same. 

They wore the same clothes as last year, and Cass forced him into a chair to comb his hair out again. It was verging on a little too-long now that it was below his shoulder blades, they could trim it later though.

“Been taking lessons from Astrid?” he teased, letting his head fall back to look as Cass properly.

“Maybe I _have._ Now enough with the cheek, I made you a _gift.”_ Cass scolded.

He sat up just as Cassian’s arms slipped over his shoulders, hands unfolding in front of him to reveal… He wasn't quite sure what it was at first. It was a narrow oval medallion of copper, set with a huge flake of cave crystal. Long sawtooth ribbons hung off each side, but it wasn't a necklace, he didn't wear bracelets…

“It's for your hair.” Cass explained, “And I did make another that matches, as practice.”

“It's beautiful Cass…” he twisted enough in the seat to share a kiss.

“Come, they'll be missing us. You're spared all the braids today.”

He rolled his eyes and sat properly so Cassian could bind his hair back, winding the ribbons tight around the tail of hair. It held firm, and Cass passed it's twin over so he could return the favor. 

Midsummer wound on with feasting and singing and dancing, so free and at _peace_ save for the excited anticipation. The newest Haddock would be joining them soon after all, a few more weeks at the most, and that couldn't come soon _enough_ for Astrid.

***

Two weeks later, the baby came. 

Astrid had been resting at home ever since Midsummer, strained by the weight and vivacity of the child when he knocked at the door with a basket of clean linens. No one came, and he only _just_ heard the lone voice inside.

“It's open!”

It didn't feel right, just _letting_ himself in, but in Cassian went. They would need all the sheets and rags and towels, so he left the basket on the kitchen table. 

“I brought the laundry!” he called upstairs, “Did you need anything else?”

“I think I-” Astrid gasped, _“Hiccup,_ get him! Valka, Gothi-”

A whimper stole the rest of her words, and Astrid did _not_ whimper.

“Astrid?” he froze at the foot of the stairs. That was far too intimate a space to just barge up.

“The baby, I think- she's _coming.”_

He bolted, barely getting the door open before he collided with it. Downhill he _flew,_ looking for someone, anyone, **calling** desperately for Cloudjumper or Toothless.

“Someone get Gothi!” he shouted to the first group he passed, “Hiccup! Valka!”

Men and dragons alike scattered as the alarm spread, but thank _God_ there was Toothless with Hiccup in tow.

“Astrid! She needs you!” he still ran, though he didn't know where or why.

But Hiccup was a clever man and leapt into the saddle. The two were gone in one sweeping wingbeat and Cloudjumper followed seconds later, rising from beyond the rooftops. Someone else announced they found Gothi, and only then did Cassian stagger to a stop, breathless more from the shock than the run. Gobber shuffled out of the smithy, brows drawn tight.

“What happened?” the smith asked.

“I think-” he gasped, “-her labor, it may have started. Gotta get Mrs. Hofferson-”

“Aye, we’ll find her. Take it easy lad, all the right people are there. This isn't the first baby on Berk.” Gobber patted his shoulder, “Just gotta let them do what comes naturally.”

He swallowed down the fear that threatened to choke him. Even against dragons, warlords, and armadas, there was _nothing_ more dangerous than bringing new life into the world. And there was nothing they could do for her, but wait.

So wait they did, through the afternoon and dinnertime, and the whole village lingered in the Great Hall afterwards for news. It hadn’t been so terribly long for a labor, only a few hours, but not _knowing_ made it hard to eat, to drink… Snotlout was pale, staring blankly into one of his notebooks while the twins were shockingly still and silent. Gobber paced by the open doors with Fishlegs not far behind, and Eret held his hand in an iron grip while his leg bounced under the table. He whispered through another prayer, he'd lost track of how many, and how many times he'd said each.

“She's _strong_ Eret, she’ll be fine.” he murmured, as much for his own sake.

“Mom was strong too.” Eret croaked, _“Chance_ doesn't care how strong we are, it takes chiefs and babes in the cradle just the same.”

He said nothing, and held Eret all the tighter.

Another hour and the sun was nearly gone, but Gobber froze in his pacing, looking out and down the hill. A moment later, Valka burst into view, grabbing him by the shoulders to swing him round and round, _laughing_ despite her tearstained cheeks and bloodshot eyes. The whole room held it's breath.

“Finna Haddock is here!” she finally shouted.

Cheers shook the rafters and his head ached for it, but all he cared about was Eret sagging in relief, sniffling as the tears he held at bay for so long fell. Those two weren't out of danger yet, it was naive to think otherwise, but the _worst_ was past now. Once the celebration came and went, Valka managed to say Astrid and the baby wouldn't be going anywhere for a few days, which was fair. The family would need time to rest, bond, settle in, make sure the baby was healthy… Only _then_ would the parade start. At least his gift was done, though it was a shame he had no colors to pretty it up. A great glass sphere, strung through the inside with a web of glass threads that caught the light so nicely… and it would likewise trap nightmares and foul spirits.

On the walk home, Eret was strangely quiet, even when Snowdrop joined them on the path. Once inside, Eret stoked the fire as he cut up some fish for the dog to go with the soup-bones.

“Did _you_ tell them? Mom’s name, I mean. ‘Finna’... that's pretty close.” Eret said pensively.

“I didn't, but once I heard them talking about an uncle named _Finn._ Astrid was considering Stoick as a name too, for a boy. It may just be coincidence.”

“Makes sense… Sorry, it was a bit of a shock for a minute there. Almost glad it's something of theirs.” Eret sighed, jabbing at the fire.

If it _had_ been for his mother, he knew Astrid would’ve asked for their blessing long before now. He set Snow’s food bowl down, patting the dog’s head as he moved on to stand behind his husband, gently rubbing his broad shoulders. Eret relaxed, bit by bit, until he set the poker aside and stood.

“So…” he cracked a little smile, “Who do you think she’s gonna look like? I bet on a second Valka, red hair and all.”

“Maybe, but a _lighter_ red and… well, we won't know who’s eyes she has for a bit. Maybe green?” he hummed, tucking against Eret’s side.

It took a week for the Haddocks to emerge, and poor Astrid looked utterly exhausted. But Toothless, Rune, Lantana and Stormfly were beside themselves, and he had to help Hiccup keep them at bay. Rune in particular was **curious** , she'd never seen a baby before and now she was absolutely _smitten,_ purring thunder and craning to look over Hiccup’s shoulder. Toothless radiated **pride** like a beacon beside her, so bright it left him seeing stars if he looked too long. And little Finna… well, she was a baby alright. Rosy, wrinkly, and mostly bald. There was no telling who she looked like just yet, but her few wisps of hair were red-ish. She was alert, as much as a newborn could be at least, but he doubted she could even see the dragons peering down at her. All in good time…

In one more month, they would be going to al-Mariyah. They had to be ready.

Crucible was still acting strange. Two weeks after Finna was born, **distress** rocked him and Eret both out of bed like an earthquake, but it was _Andarax._ The Sand Wraith seemed to be flying frantic loops around the house, _howling_ her panic.

“What in every hell-” Eret groaned, cradling his head.

He begged Andarax for **quiet, calm,** and helped Eret to his feet, but what Andarax cried next froze them both in their tracks.

 **Eggs.** Eggs were coming and Crucible was struggling. Now that he could focus, far below them he would faintly sense the Wraith’s **distress, hurt, fear-** and Eret could feel it too. They scrambled for clothes then boots and raced outside, around back to the burrow. While the entrance was dragon-sized, he would have an easier time getting in.

“I'm going down, she needs help.” he said quickly.

He gave Eret no room to protest and slipped feet-first into the hole. It's glassy walls were slick, getting _out_ was sure to be harder. He wiggled, turning about to crawl on hands and knees when the light above dimmed, and Eret tumbled down awkwardly behind him.

“I'm coming too.” he grunted, picking himself up off the floor.

“Alright. Watch your hands, the glass could be sharp.”

They shuffled along and the tunnel only got darker, so dark they had to navigate by touch. The den wasn't as extensive as he feared though, only one winding tunnel that opened into a much larger room, tall enough to stand it. It stunk faintly of fish and crushed pine and _dragon,_ and Crucible was there, he could hear her gasping for breath on the far side. She was in **pain** , the first egg- it was _stuck_ somehow, too big or in a bad position and she couldn't _push._ He felt his way along to her side as Andarax and her **fear** joined them, rushing to curl under her mate’s chest. This was so beyond his depth, if only Valka were here, she would know what to do. But there was no _time._ If Crucible couldn't push, he would have to, from the outside. **Up,** he begged her, I can **help,** I can **push,** let me **under,** show me **where.** Crucible panted, levering upright with Andarax’s help and there was room enough to get under her belly, feel around desperately-

Eret’s hands found his, guiding him down to where her hipbones flared and in the cradle there he could _feel_ the egg. It seemed… like there was only one. **Push** with me, be **strong-**

He and Eret both pressed against the mass and the Wraith jerked, tail lashing as she keened. They dared try more, _harder,_ and the egg lurched as Crucible’s body spasmed.

“Almost there Cruce, _almost_ come on-” Eret grunted, “Don't give up, I _know_ it hurts. Let us take it for you, you aren't alone-”

Eret suddenly trembled, choking on his words and Cassian forced himself to keep pushing as the egg yielded, moved another inch-

Finally, with a shout that left his ears ringing, the egg found a way _out_ and Crucible heaved all on her own, moaning low and **weary.** A moment later, she sagged and the egg dropped heavily into the nest of pine branches, and a coppery scent like blood spiked the air. No, _no_ was she hurt? If something tore inside, there was nothing they could do. She collapsed, gasping for breath and Andarax curled tight around her, gathering their egg close. No panic then? Before he could ask Eret went limp, falling completely boneless against his back and that strange turn of phrase came back to mind. What did he _mean_ ‘take it for you’?

“Eret? Are you alright?” he asked, hushed to a whisper.

“‘M fine, just need a minute.” after a breath, Eret laughed quietly, “Well, mark me down as the first man to ever experience the pain of birth first-hand. And _never_ doubt a word Astrid says ever again, _Freya save me-”_

He helped Eret lay back, pillowing his head in his lap. His husband's face was tacky with sweat, and he clutched his stomach through another spasm. He was _sharing_ Crucible’s pain? Could all dragons do this? And how long would it last?

“I thought _I_ was the only one allowed to do stupid dragonspeak stunts.” he tried to joke.

“She needed me. It was too much for Andarax alone, and Cruce'd been fighting for _hours._ They were both exhausted…” Eret sighed, finally relaxing, “At least it was only one egg, and I can see the spark in it. The baby’s okay…”

The tension in his back finally vanished, and the dragons thrummed their **gratitude**. A little while longer, and there would be yet another hatchling on Berk. But… the Wraiths would need to care for it, bond as a family. He couldn't ask them to leave for al-Mariyah, not now. They might need Lantana after all, one more adult to balance out the yearlings…

***

Lantana was now on board and they barely had to ask, bringing the flock to nine with Skullcrusher, Tyrian, Nightshade and the Reaper trio, Datura, and Foxglove. That should be enough for a first venture. The best of the best scales from Berk and Tower island filled two huge satchels for the Light Furies to carry, sorted by breed and color in smaller bags. Supplies were ready for hunting, fishing, camping, plus yards of oilskin to wrap their packs and themselves if they needed to. Their weapons were sharp and oiled well, Cassian’s quiver was stuffed with fresh arrows, and thanks to Snotlout they had wardrobes fit for the heat. Just one set each, thin linen trousers, short-sleeved tunics, and short drawstring pants that only reached their knees. Cass insisted they would need those for swimming and sleeping, which he wouldn't argue against. They were ready, and though it pained him greatly, Snowdrop would have to stay. Dragonback was no place for a dog, and Fishlegs offered to watch him. Berk would be fine for a few weeks…

“All packed?” he finally looked up from his bag.

Cass nodded, setting his goggles on top of his clothes for the morning. His hands faintly shook.

“It'll be okay Cass. Whatever happens, I'll be there.” he folded over Cassian’s back, holding tight.

“They might not be as willing to change as Father was, and if they won't… I'm _done_ waiting for them. I spent 18 years being ignored, and if they haven't sorted themselves out by now, they never will.” he sighed bitterly.

Eret frowned, and held him tighter. “We’ll see… but you really think it'll be that bad?”

“I only have hope for Safiyah. We were the most alike, she wasn't fond of F- _Reza’s_ excuses either. She never had much patience for spineless waffling.” Cass chuckled, “I bet _Snotlout_ would like her. Astrid too. They have the same fire.”

“Well, I expected no _less_ for a sister in-law.” he leaned towards the bed, “Let's get some sleep. We gotta be up early to get everybody packed, and Hiccup wants to see us off. Probably has some last words of wisdom.”

Cass hummed, and allowed himself to be rolled into bed, bundled up tight, and they sighed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, forgive me but without being able to use different fonts like I had planned, all dialogue that isn't the default ('Norse') will be underlined for clarity of who is speaking what.
> 
> [Join us on Discord for art, music, and history!](https://discord.gg/fqHaWdQ)

Cassian rolled out of bed first at dawn, rousing Eret soon after with a few kisses. They dressed warmly for the flight, but the hearth, they left cold. No sense leaving embers for someone else to worry about. With a **thought** the dragons roused and met them at the door, where they hauled the packs out one by one. At least the chests didn't need any finnicking, they were specially built for the full-grown Reapers to carry with their talons, with the late addition of long legs on the bottom to keep the chests off the ground. Their own packs were lashed to the saddles, along with the nested kettles and fishing gear. Nightshade would carry most of the food and water in her ingenious saddlebags, held up by her armor plates and strung down her back. Foxglove’s were similar, just smaller, only holding a few extra sacks of scales. The packs for the Light Furies would hang loose around their necks, so they could hold the bulk of the bag more comfortably against their chests. It was the only thing they could think of that wouldn't crush their delicate frills, or take forever and a day to put on. But the Furies’ packs and the chests could wait until the dragons had their breakfast, and the flock set off for food just as Hiccup arrived on... Stormfly for some reason. Cassian knew their chief had been thinking of their new place in the world, ever since he broached the subject the morning of their wedding. He had his own ideas on how to proceed, but a chief’s orders trumped all.

“So, you're off.” Hiccup said after a long yawn.

“Yes. We’ll be heading down the usual way, then we'll follow the coast of Angleland south. It should be a skip over the ocean to Normandy after that, and we could shave off some time cutting overland _there_ to the Sea, instead of going all the way around to the west…” he managed to say before yawning himself.

Hiccup blinked sluggishly, “I'll… pretend that made sense. But, as for the dragons, I think the best introduction will be with the Light Furies. They're the _least_ intimidating, and can get out of trouble quickly. And I'm sure I don't need to say it, but use your best judgement. Don't put yourselves _or_ them at risk to make a point. This had to be slow, gradual. Traumatizing whole cities won't do us any favors, especially if we want to build lasting relationships.”

They nodded and Hiccup took a few steps away, before quickly turning back.

“And, Astrid requested more ginger. _Lots_ more.” he added.

“Of course! That and so much more! If we’re lucky, we’ll be back by the equinox, or a little after. I don't plan on lingering.” Cassian said.

“Good… and here comes the flock. Fly safe, travel smart… and bring everybody home.”

Stormfly fluttered away, they checked their bags one last time, and took to the sky.

***

The flight as far as the Shetlands was familiar by now, verging on _boring,_ but they were making good time with the wind at their backs. At least he had the dragons to talk to. Shouting back and forth to Cass wasn't really possible, not all day. Skullcrusher was excited to be wandering again, same as Foxglove and Datura, this would be the farthest _any_ of them had ever gone from home. At least, a home they could remember. They still had no idea where Fox had come from, but it _must_ be further than they regularly went… But the flock was eager, the day was bright, and there was far to go.

They stopped for water, rest, even a mid-day nap, and _still_ they found themselves at the Shetlands by sunset. He would never know how they managed such speed, if it was the wind or just the excitement that spurred them on. But they needed to camp for the night, and the landscape was looking _very_ familiar.

“Know anywhere we can stop?” he shouted, once Crush edged closer.

“Just one! It might be empty.” Cass replied.

They tipped west, and the cove opened up in the cliffs. There was no hint of a storm for once, so they should be safe for the night and out of easy view from the town. There were no campfires, no boats, no footprints in the sand, and Skullcrusher smelled nothing but the sea and bracken, so they landed. The dragons gladly abandoned their loads, stretching out and having themselves a good roll in the sand.

“Well, guess they did move on…” he muttered, looking up the hill.

“I thought they might, we hadn't seen a raider in months when you first showed up. No need to hang around if there's nothing to fight.” Cass said, dumping a cord of firewood.

Clever idea that, picking some up along the way. But there should be plenty of wood from here on, according to Cass at least, and their waterskins were still mostly full. They should be fine for another day on that count, and the dragons had their fill earlier. 

“So, same time tomorrow..?” he asked, laying out a blanket.

“Yes. We should be able to get halfway across Angleland, maybe. If the weather holds anyway. We should bring some fish with us when we move overland, just in case. There's plenty to hunt, but it's a matter of _finding_ anything.” Cass sat beside him, stretching mightily.

“We’ll manage. But I don't think it'll take two weeks at _this_ rate.” he said.

“True, and the quicker we move, the better. We may be able to bring _fresh_ fruit back! The cold air up high could be enough to preserve it for a little more than a week-”

The dragons kept watch in turns all through the night, and Eret saw snippets of their dreams through his own. Flying, hunting, fighting… such mundane pieces of life and he could _see_ it through their eyes. _Feel_ the pull of wings he didn't have and the heat of fire in his throat. It was thrilling, beyond anything a man could imagine on his own. _Almost_ anything. When his dreams were back where they belonged, he saw their wedding for the hundredth time. Cassian’s glow, his _smile,_ nothing would ever trump that.

Dawn got them moving again. The dragons fed themselves, the packs were loaded, and they filled the air once more. It was strange to see everything from above, but the world from here on would be entirely new. Cass led them east, into the rising sun before turning south. The stony heath rolled on and on, glowing with dew and frost before they finally came to a thin and patchy forest. There were scattered homes, farms, even villages, and their passing didn't go unnoticed. But they were well beyond the reach of archers, so they kept to themselves. Better to be a fleeting curiosity than make people panic. They stopped for water at the dragons’ request, drinking deeply while he and Cassian took a nice walk to burn off all their restless energy. Cass checked their map, judged their heading, and they set off once more. There wasn't much to see, just cliffs and rocky beaches when they weren't over thicker forests. A little boring really…

The next camp was made in a shallow cave on a beachside cliff, enough for the packs and themselves, and the dragons blocked up the entrance. It was a bit cramped, but cozy.

“We could pass over London tomorrow, see what it's like. It would be on the way to the south coast, and I thought we could stop there for the night.” Cass thought aloud.

“Sounds good to _me._ Never seen anything bigger than Berk.” he shrugged.

“We don't _have_ to stop there, but it's the biggest city in Angleland. If there is a king now, that's most likely where he would be.” Cass paused, thinking hard, “This would be our closest major ally, but there's been so much turmoil I don't know if it's in _our_ best interest to make any commitment. Not a military alliance at least, certainly not without Hiccup’s input. Maybe… just an introduction. I _think_ they speak Norse?”

“If they do, it might be worth the time. And we can take a crack at trading, get some coins in our purses.” he offered.

“True, it could be worth a try. Though I doubt there's anything worth buying there. If we want to make forays into _any_ cities, we should find somewhere to hide the bags, so the dragons aren't burdened with it all. Just in case there's trouble…”

Dawn broke and they readied to ride once again, though his back was already aching. But from here they would turn a little west to fly over London, mostly overland. The dragons were thirsty, a little hungry… they would have to be careful. Maybe find some deer, or fish more thoroughly while they were still at the coast. They could only ask so much of the flock, they weren't _beasts…_ But it occurred to him, that he hadn’t really been looking for other dragons. He didn't expect to **see** any of those sparks when he closed his eyes, and at first he didn't. But only at first. One flickered far, so far under the waves, and it was rising as it sensed _them_ in turn.

“Cass!” he barked, “There's a dragon! Down below!”

Their flock rumbled **warily** as they sensed it too, Skullcrusher and Tyrian in particular. Something about it was unfamiliar but _too_ familiar in turns… his blood turned to ice. No, no it _couldn't_ be.

The ocean heaved and a great head rose high, higher, tossing the weight of the waves from a great fan of black horns. It wasn't a Bewilderbeast, thank _everything,_ it was only half that size. Plus, it had the wide flat head of a Nightmare, ragged crests over it's eyes and long tassels like a beard along it's jaw. Even from afar he could see how sodden and almost _sickly_ it's violet-black skin looked and, after another shake of it's head, water blasted out of it's cavernous nostrils _and_ it's horns, which must've been hollow somehow? The sound those horns made was unearthly, like the worst howling winds of a storm. Their flock was still wary, but **curious** even as those huge golden eyes trained on them. The sea-beast hummed, voice rippling like the water with a **greeting** that left him seeing stars, but he sent his best attempt at a **hello** back. The dragon hooted it's own pulse of **surprise,** and it's great paddled tail beat against the waves to drive forward and meet them. They _were_ close to the shore, there were no people about, and the team surely wouldn't turn down a rest.

“Well, Fishlegs did give an order!” Cass laughed, turning towards the beach.

The sea dragon followed, but lingered in the surf to watch as their dragons settled, stretched, and Cass dug out his notebook.

“You heard that sound it made, right? With it's horns.” he asked.

“Oh good, I thought I was going _mad._ They seem hollow, so it must be forcing air through them like- like a giant _pipe organ._ And it has wings like a Thunderdrum-”

“Put that in the notes, Fishlegs’ll kill us otherwise.” he chuckled.

“You have a book _too.”_ Cass rolled his eyes.

“You're the better artist! I'll get the next one-”

 **Curiosity** washed over them, like a question as the dragon craned it's neck and sniffed. _Thor_ this fella was big, it's nostrils were as wide as washtubs even before they flared.

“So, what’re we gonna call it? Might as well steal all the thunder.”

Cassian pursed his lips, tapping his pen on the page, “What did you call these large water dragons again?”

“Leviathans? I think. Bewilderbeasts, Sunbmarrippers, the like.” he shrugged.

“Leviath-or...gan..?” Cass sounded out bit by bit, “That works quite well actually, huh…”

The great dragon whispered it's **interest,** peering more intently as the **question** rose again. Was it talking to the others before? But Cass jerked to attention as the dragon’s voice turned… incomprehensible, he only caught threads of the dense weave that ebbed and flowed with Cassian’s responses. It must be an image-thinker if he could see so little.

“It seems she’s lonely, I'm telling her about Berk. I don't think a visitor would cause too much trouble.” Cass explained.

“Couldn't hurt to have more muscle at our disposal.” he mused.

“I’d agree- oh, she's offering to fish for us!”

The flock snapped to attention as the Leviathorgan trundled back into the sea, vanishing with a flick of her tail. Well, there was _that_ problem solved.

“I'll grab the net, can't waste any extra.” he announced, though there wasn't a need.

He twisted in the saddle to wrest the net from where they stashed it last, then dropped down onto the beach to shake it out and lay it flat. Tyrian could carry it just fine. So they waited for a time, until the sea suddenly erupted with a thunderous blast, far off enough that the dragons were only startled. The Leviathorgan followed a heartbeat later, shooting straight out of the water in a surge of flesh and scales, throat bulging like a whale’s with it's catch. Momentum spent, it toppled sideways in a long arc, throwing up waves that could have swamped even Drago’s flagship.

 _“Damn.”_ he muttered, and Cass hummed in agreement, “Glad _she's_ friendly.”

The Leviathorgan surged back to their stretch of beach, purring in victory as she dumped a mountain of fish onto the sand, at least _partly_ on the net. Cass scrambled out of the saddle to let Tyrian eat his fill, and settled on a stone to keep sketching. The sea dragon sighed, curling and stretching out in the surf to lay her head on the ground and look at them more closely. This near, he could see all the crust over the poor lass’s scales, even her _eyelids_.

“Hey, where’s your knife? The little one.” he asked.

“Here. And be careful, those things could be rooted deep.” Cassian gently tossed the bade his way.

He swiped the knife out of the air and tucked it against his palm, too aware of the amber eyes training on him.

“Sorry, sorry. I promise I'm just gonna have a go at that thing on your eye. Tell me if it hurts…” he said, slow, quiet, radiating **calm,** “I bet Berk’s Terrors could do a number on the rest.”

The Leviathorgan’s huge eyelid drifted shut and it thrummed, thrusting it's head further up the beach. _Gods_ there were so many little parasites tucked in the delicate folds, foaming barnacles and skittering beasts with too many legs that turned his stomach. He flicked _those_ off with the fine point of the dagger, digging a few more out where they tried to burrow into her flesh, and finally tested the edge of the blade against the root of the fist-sized barnacle. With a little rocking, wiggling, and finally a _twist,_ the grotesque lump shattered, falling away in gooey pieces. He tasted bile at the back of his throat, but the dragon sighed her **relief** as she blinked a few times.

 _“There_ you go ol’ girl. I wish we could do more for you, but we’ve got places to go.” he patted the dragon’s cheek, then scratched gently, “If you swing by Berk, they’ll take good care of you. Wouldn't be more than a few day’s swim north and there's plenty of other sea-dragons to play with.”

 **Gratitude** swelled around his shoulders, warm and heavy and solid as any embrace. The Leviathorgan rose and lumbered back into the sea after a slow and sweet goodbye, and Eret stooped to wash the knife off, dried it on his pants, and returned it to his husband. Once the flock was finished with their meal, the rest of the fish were piled into the net and he bundled it up so Tyrian could carry it away. London waited for them.

There were more and more settlements as they crossed over land, farms and hamlets and soon proper _cities._ It was riskier to stop and rest, but the dragons could only endure so much and there was so far yet to go. There were rivers for water, and secluded glens thick with wildflowers and waving grass to shelter in. Though the skies were sullen and grey, it was stunning here, so wide and open with rolling hills… but it _was_ a bit damp, and warm enough to consider swapping out his vests. Not yet though, maybe when they had a go at London. Just a few hours more, it was barely past noon.

They saw the shimmer of the river first, then the smudge of smoke from hundreds of chimneys within great stone walls along the north of it's shore. It was huge, sprawling, and almost claustrophobic in it's density, it wasn't _natural._ And the lad was so flat, finding somewhere to hunker down would be difficult. The safety of their flock came first. But on the south bank a thin forest remained, and after a little searching they found a clearing far from any man-made track. Skullcrusher and Tyrian investigated carefully once they landed, and there wasn't a _whiff_ of humans either. This would be the first test…

“So, those streets looked pretty packed. Think Lantana can manage? Or, might Tyrian have it easier?” he thought aloud.

“They don't necessarily have to come _in_ with us, that might be too big of a shock. But we could still have Tyrian and Tana fly us _in_ and then circle around.” Cass replied.

“Sounds like a plan, I'm gonna change first, it's _awfully_ warm.”

“I agree.”

They packed their heavy coats away for their lighter vests and sword belts, with their new pouches on their hips. The big packs could stay, and they relieved Lanata of hers, each taking one of the smaller bags of scales, mostly Nadder and some Fury.

“We’re almost done for the day, and we won't be long here. Lay low, and _run_ if you must. If anything happens, call for us and we will come.” Cass instructed.

The dragons rumbled their affirmation and settled into the ferns, snacking on the remaining fish. Cass returned to Tyrian’s saddle while he eased onto Lantana’s shoulders, and they took to the sky. He wasn't surprised that there were no dragons here but… shouldn't there have been? Surely there were in an age gone by, the land was just too big to _not_ support any. They should _keep_ looking, just in case. As the city loomed once more, they eyed a long bridge that ended in a gate at the wall. They should enter by _their_ laws, act civilized. Having dragons didn't give them free reign to land where they pleased. 

They aimed for where the crowd was thinnest, approaching slow and only _just_ floating over the edge of the high brick walls. The people there had scattered, screaming, and they quickly dismounted to wave the dragons off. Eret adjusted his belt and vest, slowly scanning the bridge as they panic dwindled when a strange sound drew his eye. There was a beast harnessed to a cart, with a huge, elongated head and hooved legs that bent all the wrong ways, crying shrilly as it pawed at the stone.

 _“Cass.”_ he took a step back, “What is _that?”_

He didn't expect laughter, and glowered as Cassian bent nearly double, clutching his stomach.

“That-” a giggle broke him, _“That_ is a horse.”

“It looks weird.” he grumbled. It was like a fever dream of a _sheep._

Still chuckling, Cass dragged him away by the sleeve towards the gate, he was all too aware of the eyes that followed, but these were just people, unsure of a stranger. There were more horses too, white, black, brown, dappled and splotched, all with big round bellies and gangly legs and weird single hooves. Some had saddles, _that_ must be how Cass had half a clue how to ride. Huh. Now, what could _sharks_ possibly be?

The crowd parted, wary and suspicious, but he ignored them to look up. The dragons circled high, close enough to call if they needed to but well out of reach of any archers. Good… the guards at the gate glared at them, their weapons, their admittedly outlandish clothes, and almost seemed to reconsider barring their way. Almost. The oldest and gruffest of them lowered his pike, and they stopped to avoid a scuffle. The guard barked something, but it wasn't Norse.

“Uh-” he glanced at Cassian, “Did you catch that?”

 _“No_ I did not.” Cass held his hands up, open and placating, “Sorry, we speak Norse, and Arabic.”

One of the younger guards muttered to the older in hushed tones, and after a quick exchange of words he so _nearly_ understood, the first guard gestured their way in a sort of ‘go on’ motion.

“What business do you do here?” the younger guard demanded, in stilted but passable Norse.

“We’re here to trade, nothing more.” Cass replied, calm and cool, “Our dragons will do _no_ harm.”

The guard translated for the rest, they had some sort of discussion, and the leader gestured again.

“I will guard- _guide_ you inside.” the young man said, “You will leave before sundown.”

“As you wish. We had no intention to stay so long.”

Still wary, the guard opened the way and the young man led them in. He was a mousy lad, pale and freckled rather like Hiccup, but he didn't miss the firm grip the man kept on his sword. All should be fine, if they played by London’s rules. Past the walls, he wasn't terribly impressed. The buildings were shabby timber, plaster and thatch, the roads were no more that mud at the _best_ of times, and the odor of rot and worse permeated the air. Dad hadn't been kidding, this was _awful._ The tilting walls and sloping roofs cut the sky to narrow slivers and he didn't like it, not one bit-

“So, do you have a name?” Cass asked casually.

The guard looked back over his shoulder, hesitating, before muttering, “Joshua.”

This ‘Joshua’ seemed to be leading them somewhere, deeper into town where the houses were taller, and structures in the distance seemed fancier. More wealthy.

“Know anyone that might be keen on dragon scales?” he asked in turn.

Joshua stopped, staring more intently before his eyes flicked to their vests.

“Selling… for clothes?” he asked, nose wrinkling.

“Clothes, jewelry, armor, whatever you want really. They’re lovely, and fireproof besides.” Eret said.

Joshua frowned, thinking for a moment before turning on his heel and waving for them to follow. Cass just barely brushed their knuckles together as they pulled back into the crowd, all they dared with so many eyes. But his husband had been right. He was head and shoulders above most of the people here, men and women alike. At least _he_ wouldn't get lost in the crowd, wherever they were going. Joshua wove through the streets and back alleys, and the path grew a little less foul, more solid with paving stones. There were more stone buildings too, and he could properly see the sky again, where the dragons had managed to follow.

“My- family, they make clothes for the king’s… house.” Joshua said, “They need new things, always. Nobles can be vain, they change clothes often.”

Well, sounds like the perfect market, and they had the perfect scales for it. They wove higher, deeper into the city, and the buildings only got more ornate. There were tall spires peaking over the rooftops, too thin to be a proper dwelling. How strange… Cassian followed his eyes, then nudged his arm.

“That is a church, the top anyway. A place of worship for their one god.” he explained quietly, “Religion here is… different. I will explain later.”

Joshua stopped before a red door, knocking, then entering when a voice answered, waving them in after. He had to _duck_ to fit through the frame, and the room beyond was dim, but not unlike Snotlout’s workshop back home. Shears, bolts of cloth, great spools of thread…

“Uncle! I have business- _traders,_ something new.” Joshua called.

Footsteps, fast and angry traveled across the upper floor and down stairs out of sight, until this ‘uncle’ rounded the corner. He was a portly man, balding and ruddy-faced with annoyance.

“Boy, don't you have better things to do? I am very busy-” the man froze, jaws going slack.

“They have dragon scales.” Joshua said, suddenly meek.

“And you _believed_ them?” the man scoffed, “That is _shell_ , another fake. Not even clever.”

“Our dragons are _fake?”_ Cassian gasped in mock disbelief, “Then what did we _fly_ here on?”

“Giant clams, apparently.” he snorted, and Joshua’s uncle flushed red.

 _“Before_ you dismiss us out of hand-” Cassian cut the protest short, “Look out that window, and tell me what you see is fake. We’ll leave if you still think it is.”

Absolutely fuming, the man stomped across the room, threw the curtains back, and yelped. He scrambled away, ducking behind a cloth-form as Tyrian clucked outside, breath fogging the glass.

“Looks pretty real to me.” he quipped, “So, dragon scales. Want ‘em or not?”

“Eret…” Cass scolded at a whisper, then turned back to the tailor, “It _is_ an offer, not a demand.”

The man finally looked away from the window, faintly shaking.

“Not bad for our first try.” Eret chuckled, hefting their bag of proper coin.

They settled on a long piece of driftwood, looking out over the sea as the sun set and their fire crackled. He imagined he could see Europa on the other side, at least from the air. That would have to wait till tomorrow, the day had been long and he was glad to be back in the open. London had been too great an assault on the senses.

“No idea what they _should_ be worth, but it's something.” Cass hummed, “20 silver crowns is a fair sum for what we pick up off the ground, and silver is silver. They should accept it elsewhere.”

“I'll take your word for it.” he shrugged, “So, what’s all this about _one_ god?”

Cass sighed, “It is their way, and mine... sort of. In Europa, there are three great religions: Islam, Judaism, and Christianity, all have their roots in the same history. It is the _same_ god, more or less, with prophets and holy servants and holy texts we follow, usually in buildings made for the purpose. It shapes every facet of our lives, from when we can work to what we can eat, and… Each branch believes themselves to be in the absolute right. A lucky few places will tolerate a mix of the three, but just about everywhere else, all others are blasphemers. If this god is eternal, all-powerful, created everything… how can there be times and places where He is not known? The Romans had their many gods, as do you. How can _everyone’s_ gods be the right ones? Either they all are… or none. I feel a little better knowing, wherever I go, there’s someone to pray to.”

He draped an arm over Cassian’s shoulders, pulling him closer. They were all tired.

“That's… Normandy over there, right?” he asked.

“Yes, and it should take the same amount of time to cross. But, it will all be over land. We’ll have to hunt, carefully…” Cass sagged against him, “The last days will have us on the Imperial Sea, maybe another week to al-Mariyah.”

He took Cassian’s hand, rolling a thumb over his knuckles.

“Have you thought about what you're going to say? Once we get there.”

“A little. However it happens, I just want it over and done with. The day we arrive if we can manage. I don't care if they accept me or not, I just want that one answer. And…” Cass hunched deeper into himself, “I want to see Safiyah again.”

“We’ll manage Cass. We’ll get it done.”

The strait between Angleland and Normandy was hardly an ocean, but it was _unnerving_ in a way he couldn't name. Too big to compare to a lake or river or fjord, but too small to be a proper ‘sea’, he didn't know what else to call it. But the strip of water came and went, and the rolling plains of Normandy unfolded before them. Farms, hamlets, _horses_ passed, then little streams bordered by rushes and tall waving flowers that flowed into one river, near as big as the one by London but _much_ cleaner at a glance. They landed so their flock could have a good, long drink. Cass even managed to take a deer on the opposite bank, a _damn_ fine shot, and Tyrian retrieved it. That wouldn't be enough, not for all of them, but it would carry them through more of the day. Skullcrusher though, he was crunching through bones even the Sickle-Scales turned their noses up at. But at his asking, Crush insisted he was fine, just **hungry.** That **hunger,** it was a deeper need, more _primal_ than normal. Strange… 

On and on they went but, they still stopped to help people. A farmer with his overturned cart, catching a fisherman’s runaway boat, even saving a child stuck up a tree. There was fear still by the time they left, of course there was, but even if they couldn't communicate, there was still gratitude. Maybe even _respect._ And that was worth it's weight in gold.

“It's getting late.” he muttered, more to himself.

The sun was tracking low and the dragons were weary, but there was another big city on a river ahead. He wasn't keen on stopping so _close_ but they had come so far already. They would have to risk it, maybe the west bank? That was all open field, they could see trouble coming. The thick grass would hide them a little too. So, there they landed.

“That city…” he huffed, hauling Nightshade’s pack down, “Think it's safe to be here?”

“It should be. And maybe we can visit in the morning.” Cassian thought aloud.

“Gotta try and get everybody fed a little more tomorrow, if we can…”

Cass hummed in agreement and eventually, they bundled up to sleep under Skullcrusher’s wing. He kept one hand on his sword, even with his husband tucked under his chin.

Drumbeats invaded his dreams, slowly at first, then **alarm** struck between his eyes. He woke with a snap of awareness and the drums were here too. The dragons were rousing and **danger** thundered all around him. Dragging his sword over, belt and all, he rolled out from under Skullcrusher’s wing and shot to his feet. The sun was bright, but there was no missing the small _army_ charging towards them on horseback. 30 men at least, armed and armored, flying strange banners. Their flock gathered close, but there was still a chance to keep things civil.

“Hold your fire!” he waved them down, “Cass! Datura, get him up-”

There was no time even for his boots. He drew his sword and tossed the rest aside, moving to the front of the wall of dragons. They snarled, bared their teeth, but held firm in their line as the army pulled closer, stopping a few lengths away. The man in the center was more ornately dressed than the others, even down to his horse, he must be the leader. They would probably have issues with language again, perhaps…

“So, anyone speak Norse?” he scanned the line of wary men, “No?  How about Andalusi?” 

He stood square and solid, planting the point of his sword in the turf. But one man in the crowd edged forward, judging by the shifting horses and spoke to another, then broke the line. His horse stopped halfway between the two parties, pawing and snorting. The man was old from what he could see under the helm, with darker skin than the rest and hawkish features.

“Name your business here!”  the man barked.

He was beginning to notice a pattern.  “No business! Just sleeping, we’ll leave shortly.” 

The soldier squinted, suspicious and befuddled at once as he relayed the information in a strange language that curled and looped almost drunkenly. But behind the wall of wings, Datura growled, Cassian squawked, and he rolled his eyes. The _one_ time Cass wants to sleep in, they've got a whole angry army staring them down. Nightshade lifted a wing to allow the Light Fury by, dragging his husband over by a mouthful of his tunic.

“Oh yeah, great first impression.” he grumbled, “Alright, up with you we have _company.”_

He left his sword to haul Cass up by the elbow, and he decided to ignore the faint chuckles from the soldiers. Cassian groaned, scrubbing his face and raking his hair back, staring blankly ahead.

“Morning.” he grunted, and Eret wanted to strangle him.

“What _are_ these beasts?”  the hawkish soldier asked.

Cassian stiffened, so _he_ spoke instead,  “Dragons, of the north. We will go to al-Mariyah to trade.” 

“We’re _going.”_ Cass corrected, standing up straighter, “ To whom do we owe this honor?” 

_“King_ Robert the Pious, second of his name. You are _bold_ to keep such beasts so close, traders or not.”  the soldier scowled, as did the rest.

Before he could protest, Cassian dragged him down to one knee and bowed his head.

“What’s going on?” he hissed.

“That is the king of these lands, they thrive on posturing and pageantry so we have to play along.” Cass whispered before switching back,  “I must beg your Majesty's pardon, we are the first envoys of our kingdom and our maps are incomplete. And our dragons are not mere beasts of burden, they will harm _none_ without cause. If it pleases you, we will pack our things and be on our way.” 

There was a long, tense moment of translation and they finally dared look up when leather creaked, boots hit the ground, and voices rose in protest. The _king_ had dismounted and walked their way in long, confident strides. His sword was still in easy reach, but the dragons hemmed in closer at their backs and Datura lingered at Cassian’s side. Her lips curled as the king spoke, and his soldier followed.

“What could you be trading? You carry so little.” 

“Dragon scales, and gems from far under our island. The gems are obvious, but the scales have many uses. Some more frivolous than others.”  Cassian explained, so cooly,  “They are light and can fireproof armor, and their colors are like nothing else.” 

The king’s eyes roved over the flock as their words passed on, expression so guarded he didn't know what to think. If they had to flee, they may need to leave some things behind, supplies came first-

“How many scales could these few possibly give?”  the soldier sneered in contempt.

"Oh, this is just part of our personal flock. There are _thousands_ across the kingdom of Berk, and many more breeds besides. The Flame-Cloaks, Stone-Eaters, Night-Screamers, and Storm-Kings…”  Cassian listed on, with just an _undercurrent_ of assertiveness.

The soldier shifted a little nervously during the next exchange, and the king’s eyes narrowed.

“But, as was said, we’re going to al-Mariyah to trade, and we will be out of your way. With your Majesty’s leave.”  Cass said.

 _Gods_ he loved this man. King Robert’s spine went ramrod-straight, and after a moment’s thought, he waved dismissively and turned on his heel. Cass jerked his head back towards camp and they both rose, retreating behind the wall of wings after he grabbed his sword. They dressed quickly, calling the dragons back one by one for their packs.

“That was risky.” he murmured over Foxglove’s neck, “We can't be picking fights with _kings.”_

“And _kings_ can't be picking fights with anyone they please. He had to be in his 40s, _fools_ don't remain in power for that long. Its a little game, making a show of deferring while letting them know you are under no _real_ obligation to do so.” Cassian replied, “But, perhaps one last show of goodwill.”

He watched as Cass dug through Datura’s bag for one of the smallest packets of Nadder scales, and shook his head before mounting up. The flock was loaded and he took no small satisfaction in the way they towered over the men and their _horses._ Those soldiers stared in awe as they damn well should, they looked like proper riders now with all their scale and weapons. Tyrian strode forward and the horses shied, half dancing away as Cassian tossed the bag to the hawkish soldier. He fumbled it a few times, and dropped his reins.

“A gift, for his Majesty. Long may he reign!” Cass said boldly.

With that, they were off, leaving the king and his city behind. But they needed food, and soon. Datura, Foxglove and the Reapers were starting to struggle.

Four deer and a nice campfire by a stream later, all was well. They took the time to refill their waterskins very, _very_ carefully, and even had a hot meal of fresh venison and the bursting-sweet berries Cassian found. They were so far ahead of schedule they could afford to be a _little_ generous with their breaks, especially after all that excitement.

“How did you _know_ all of that?” he asked, “The bowing, and fancy words.”

“Honestly? It's all from stories and plays.” Cass chuckled, eyes crinkling, “Say something with enough conviction and you'll be believed, whether you actually know a lick or not. Seems there _was_ something to learn from old Grimsley.”

“Well aren't _you_ clever.” he hummed, ducking in for a kiss.

They were alone, far from prying eyes, and they wouldn't be again for long. He was going to take advantage, just a little… and it seemed his husband had the same idea. In the span of a breath, Cassian moved to straddle his thighs, but cradled his face so _tenderly,_ kissed him slow. There was no fire to it, not yet, just savoring the very _taste_ of one another while they could. _Gods_ his lips were so soft, even chapped by the wind, so full, completely enveloping his own…

They all dozed in the ferns for a time, waking in far better sorts. There was still a good amount of meat left, so that went in the net and they packed the rest of the gear back on the saddles. They rose into the wind, turning southeast to ride on and on. They were so _close,_ only a few more days.

They made camp at the peak of a hill, nesting into the long grass and wildflowers. It was so _peaceful_ here. Birds sang, grass swayed like the sea, the faint rush of a stream rose to fill in the gaps, and they laid back on their blankets to bask in the sun, so _warm…_

The next afternoon saw another walled city fill the horizon, then the sea rose beyond that. Finally, just three more days. The dragons should be able to feed themselves here, but their own stores were running low. They could risk a trip to that town, though they might not find someone that could understand them. Maybe there would be other traders around?

“So, any plans?” he shouted over the wind.

“Skirt the city, to the shore!” Cass replied.

To the beach they went, where they found a nice hollow in the hills, well out of sight from land and sea and not easily reached on foot. The ritual resumed, stripping the dragons of their burdens and sending them off to fish in the impossibly-blue ocean.

“It's beautiful…” he said, to no one in particular.

“And it will only get _better.”_ Cass took his hand, leaning against his arm.

“How'd you want to check out the town?” he asked after a beat, “Same as London?”

“Yes. Though… we will need to be more cautious. We can't count on anyone speaking Andalusi, much less Norse. But, _others_ have managed since the dawn of trade. We can try and get some fresh bread at the very least, if they aren't interested in scales.” Cass sighed.

They sat and watched the ocean as the sun tracked down until the flock returned, sated and glad for the warmth on their wings. They brought along the silver coins and a few bags of scales, blue and green to match the sea, and rode back across the hills to the city. It was a few miles back from the coast, and they followed a winding path long-worn into the earth. There were people down below, some shading their eyes to look up as their shadows passed. But, no one scattered, no one screamed, and they were in easy view. He dared hope this place would be different, at least a little.

Lantana and Tyrian found a place well shy of the walls and off the path to land, but he stayed on her back. There was gate, same as London, but no guards that he could see…

“Well, no screaming so far…” he muttered, patting Lantana’s neck, “And it's not as cramped in there as London. Think they'd let us all inside?”

“It's worth a try.” Cass scanned the road, and his Nadder shifted warily.

They urged their dragons up the little incline and walked with the rest of the crowd, who were only mildly curious. Even the tiny, long-eared horses could care less. No one stopped them at the gate, on the wide lanes inside, even as they wound around the perimeter of the town following the scent of baking bread. Cassian turned in the saddle, looking just as shocked as he must. No one _cared,_ at least so long as a wing or a tail didn't swing where they weren't wanted.

“You haven't seen other dragons around, right?” Cass asked, once they found a quiet corner to stop in.

“Didn't check before, but there's nothing around now.” he frowned, shutting his eyes tight, “In the sea maybe..? There were a lot of boats for such a small town.”

“Doesn't seem to be much around for fish…” Cass frowned, scanning the street again, “But, I'm starving, for _proper_ food and all the snacks back in al-Mariyah-”

 _“Al-Mariyah?!”_ a passing man froze, dropping his push-cart.

They stared back, shared a glance, then nodded slowly. The stranger hauled his cart out of the way, panting from the effort as he straightened his robes and long beard.

“You speak Andalusi yes?”  there was a certain eager sparkle in his eyes that Eret found himself trusting.

“Yes, we do. You have news of al-Mariyah?”  Cassian replied.

Eret didn't miss his back tensing, and knuckles going white on the pommel.

“No, my brother and I have business! An old partner of ours is too old to sail himself over this year, we were starting to worry about how we would deliver! If you're heading that way, we could offer a fair wage- Oh! Forgive my rudeness!”  the man straightened his hat, and gave a little bow,  “I am Abraham ben Levi, my brother and I do a little trading between Rome and al-Andalus. This is an _old_ client, we’ve procured his salts and earth for decades! Can't let a late delivery on our end soil years of work!” 

Abraham’s smile was hopeful, honest, and Cassian’s shoulders slumped.

“You are in luck, we were on our way there ourselves to trade. We will help you.”  he said.

“Oh, wonderful! Please, it wouldn't be proper to discuss business in an _alley_. My home is just around the corner.”  Abraham gestured deeper into the city.

So, they followed on foot and the dragons trotted behind. But the complete _lack_ of concern…

“Our dragons don't worry you?” he asked.

“Hmm? Oh, them. There are a few that still linger in the sea, the fishermen swear they're good luck! And they aren't bothering any goods, so I don't think anyone will mind. But… I don't think you'll find a stable keen to offer space, if only for the horses’ sake.”  Abraham gave a small, apologetic smile.

“Oh, that is fine. We have a camp, with the rest. And they've eaten.”  he stumbled on a few words.

The trader studied them from the corner of his eye as they turned down a narrower street, to stone houses with red tile roofs. How strange, that wouldn't survive a single hailstorm.

“You _wear_ dragon hide?”  Abraham finally asked.

“Not _skin_ , just scales. They fall like feathers, and can be sewn.”  he said quickly,  “There are many dragons back home, so we have many scales to trade.” 

_“Really?_ Well, that merits discussion as well…”

The home was so utterly foreign, open in the center like a chain-link to surround a private garden with a spindly tree laden with fruits that looked rather like dull, leathery apples. Before he could ask, Cassian gasped and lurched a few steps forward, before remembering himself and stopping short. Abraham walked on, unbothered, to a small table in the shade of the tree and pulled out a few stools tucked under it.

“Come, sit! I'll fetch Zerahiah, and there should be some sherbet cooling…” 

He nudged Cass forward and the dragons filed in behind them, pacing the four walls of the garden to sniff all the strange plants. But Cass stood under the low branches of the tree, turning one of the fruits with his fingers, looking fit to _cry._

“A pomegranate tree…” he said, soft and reverent.

 _“This_ is a pomegranate?” he hesitantly poked one.

It was heavier than it looked, solid and dense. And, it would probably be rude to pick one. Best not.

“Yes.” Cass sniffed, and fell onto a stool, “They're full of seeds, under the skin.”

“What _color._ I bet we could bring some home.” he nudged Cass under the table once he sat, “But… you trust these men? He seemed a little _too_ eager.”

Cassian shrugged, “These are men of the old faith, I've always known them to be shrewd but _honest_ businessmen. Abraham may just be relieved to keep their goods flowing, it's a matter of reputation. One sour customer could topple their trade in a whole market, especially in a city like al-Mariyah where word spreads quickly.”

He nodded in agreement. That made sense, but the man still seemed almost over-polite. It may just be their way, and good manners were certainly preferable to getting run out of town.

The brothers returned with trays of food and drink, and a younger boy tailed them with a small crate. Zerahiah seemed to be the older brother, with far more laugh-lines, though both were well-silvered. The boy, clearly a son or nephew, froze solid in shock once he noticed the dragons.

“Isaac, it's fine!”  Abraham chuckled,  “Come set that down and you can go.” 

The boy slunk over and Tyrian followed, sniffing at his back and dark curly hair.

“Tyrian, don't be _rude.”_ Cassian scolded, and the dragon grumbled,  “He will not harm you, he’s just curious. He rarely gets to meet new people.” 

Slowly, Isaac offered his hand to the Nadder, then Lantana when she crept closer in turn. The brothers slid their trays onto the table, cups and a fat pitcher on one and… he could only name a soft cheese and what looked like thin crusts of bread on the other. The rest were _perhaps_ dried fruit, some black, some brown, some _orange,_ and bowls of smooth dappled-brown and green _somethings._ He looked helplessly to Cassian as Abraham filled the cups with something fragrant.

“Grapes, apricots, dates and olives- be careful, those have pits inside,” Cass explained, pointing them out one by one, “Then, figs. You don't _have_ to eat the skins, the inside is best.”

“These are the sorts of things we’re after, right?” he asked, taking one of the ‘figs’.

“Yes, the dried ones especially. And you can peel it like this-” Cass took one for himself.

Eret watched as he dug his nail around the stem, peeling the fruit roughly in half to reveal rosy-red flesh speckled with seeds. With a flex, the good insides popped out and Cass scraped the mouthful out with his teeth. When he finally managed the same, it was floral, honey-sweet, and the seeds were delightfully crunchy.

“You must've come _far_ if this is new to you.”  Zerahiah laughed, wrinkles creasing even deeper.

“We have, though I'm the stranger here.”  he said, then corrected,  “It's all strange to _me._ Still learning.” 

"We’ve traveled from the far north beyond England, a kingdom of dragons in the sea.”  Cass explained,  “And we hope to trade for the usual things. Silk, spices, fruits, the finer stuff of life.” 

“But of course! Though… would those two be enough to carry that much back?”  Abraham asked.

“Oh, we have others. Chests and bags, jars and packets, everything we need. It's just a matter of selling and trading for all our hearts desire. I'm sure we can get someone interested in the scales, the gems will sell themselves.”  Cassian shrugged.

The brothers brightened, leaning eagerly forward.

“ _Gems_ you say? What sort?”  Zerahiah asked.

“I must confess, I don't know. They are uncut, mostly blue and purple. Our supply is with the rest of our bags I'm afraid, I only have some scales.”  Cass sighed,  “But, if it interests-” 

“Yes! Supplies have gotten so _thin_ from the south, the Byzantines hardly let a speck of lapis escape! The Romans hunt for whats left, even carnelian is worth it's weight in gold…”  Abraham groused,  “The Kingdom of Leon up north has been clamoring for years! We’ll buy everything you have!” 

“Once we examine it brother. Have you forgotten the time that _sneak_ from Venice tried to sell you glass?”  Zerahiah scolded.

The brothers bickered more quietly, but he stared a look with his husband, and they both shrugged. Why not? They should reserve _some_ though, just in case. There would still be plenty.

“Lantana!” he called, and the Light Fury perked, “Can you go get your bag?”

She thrilled **affirmation** and shot into the air, streaking east to camp. The brothers stared, struck silent.

“They can understand you?”  it was young Isaac that asked.

“In Norse, yes. Some are smarter than others, but most can do whatever you ask.”  he said,  “So, what did you need delivered? It's… not _alive_ is it?” 

“Oh no, just sands and stones from strange places. I'm surprised he didn't just send Zayd, or the other one-” 

“ _What.”_ Cassian snapped, so sudden even _he_ jumped,  “Zayd _ibn Reza?”_

The brothers blinked owlishly, before replying,  “Yes?” 

Cass inhaled slow, and Eret found his hand under the table, squeezing gently.

“And what of Jarrah?"  he asked, squeezing his hand in turn.

“His oldest? Only heard about him talking to a doctor a few years ago.”  Abraham replied,  “He had that _other_ son, what was his name…” 

Cassian laughed, sharp and bitter.

_“Two_ others. Affan, and _myself.”_ his mouth pulled into a pained frown,  “Cassian ibn Reza.” 

All was quiet for a moment and Zerahiah’s face fell in thought. Let him think, he needed to do what he could.

“Cass, we’ll manage…” he murmured, rubbing slow circles with his thumb.

Cassian nodded minutely, and the trader sighed long and low.

“No, he _did_ mention four, once upon a time. And a daughter…” 

“Safiyah.”  Cass said,  “I was already going to see them. I will take your goods, there's no need for payment.” 

Lantana called overhead to announce her return and Cass made his escape, buying a moment to collect himself surely. Eret finally took a tentative sip of what they had called ‘sherbet’ and it was _good._ Just water with some fruit muddled in if he had to guess, but it was cool and sweet and cut right through his nagging thirst. Cassian returned, setting down two of their larger bags of crystals, the narrow ones as long as his whole hand. Each brother took a bag, tipping some of the contents out into their palms. They muttered back and forth for a good while, peering at gem after gem, holding them up to the light, scratching some points against each other until they were satisfied.

“Looks like amethyst to _me,_ purple and blue. That will certainly please their majesties in the north! They _do_ love their purple.”  Abraham smiled, bright and satisfied.

“Go get the scales, let's do this fairly.”  Zerahiah waved his brother back towards the house,  “And in _dinar,_ no sense causing trouble for them later!” 

“Yes yes I _know!”_

“Oh. Would they not take other coins? We have silver, from London.”  he winced.

“Maybe, depends on the merchant. Some get nervous with coins they don't know, they don't want to get caught with fakes.”  Zerahiah could only offer a shrug.

“We can just spend it back in London.”  Cass said.

Abraham returned with another stack of boxes, opening the larger of the two and setting up a pair of scales. He balanced the bags of gems against more and more brass weights, fiddling with something in his lap that clicked and clacked until it was even.

“1,532- oh, round down a hair for the bags, just 1,532 carats… What did we pay for that lapis back in the day? Haven't bought stones in so long…”  Abraham muttered.

“No, it was more than that-” 

“Let me add it _up_ stop butting in!” 

They swatted at each other, fighting over a wooden frame supporting rows and rows of beads on thin wire rods. Were they using that to count? Cass chuckled quietly, before taking a sip of his drink and quickly humming in appreciation. They snacked on a little more of the fruits on offer and he wasn't keen on the orange things, but the dates-

“Alright… we are prepared to offer 900 dina-” 

Cassian choked on a mouthful of sherbet, bending double into a coughing fit that almost knocked him to the ground. Eret stared, shifting uneasily until Cass dragged himself upright, sucking in a desperate, ragged breath.

“That-”  he wheezed,  “That's too much!” 

“No, that's quite fair for the quality. Consistent, deep color, no big flaws or inclusions, good clarity…”  Abraham listed on, “ _And_ they aren't little baby-grains!” 

“We will accept- but take these as well.”  Cassian placed his bag of dragon scales on the table, shaking a few out,  “They are fireproof, and can be drilled to stitch onto cloth or leather.” 

Zerahiah picked up a scale, examining it closely with keen interest, then looked over his shoulder to where Tyrian lay with his head in Isaac’s lap.

“Are these from him?” 

“Maybe some, but they are all from his kind. He's a _Nadder,_ and there are many more kinds back home.”  Eret answered.

_“That_ sounds like a sight worth sailing for.”  Abraham elbowed his brother.

“And we would welcome you gladly! We _are_ improving our maps of the area, but we can share what we have now. It would be a long journey, about four months.”  Cassian said.

“Yes, that is true. And winter might be a bit cold up that way.”  Zerahiah sighed.

“Oh, _definitely.”_ Cassian shuddered at the memory.

They finished up business, shook hands on the deal, and relaxed over the rest of their meal, light as it was. But all too soon the sun was nearly gone, and they had to get back to camp. The brothers sent them off with a few of the pomegranates off their tree and bags full to bursting with little gold coins, and another handshake for good measure. Lantana and Tyrian bid their goodbyes to Isaac, and they took off to the east to rejoin their flock. There was a little light left, gilding the hills, the ocean, and his husband just off Skullcrusher’s wing. He was _breathtaking,_ but when wasn't he? They landed and stashed their bags of coins away, while Cass left the crate in one of the Reaper’s trunks. They stripped themselves of scales and weapons, and settled down to watch the sun vanish.

“So, should we crack one of these open?” he asked, turning a pomegranate over.

“Give it here-” Cass held a hand out as he dug for his little knife.

He watched as Cass pared the leathery skin back in strips, carefully splitting the fruit in two. The stark white membranes were a bit… unnerving, especially against the pebbly blood-red seeds. He prised out a handful and popped them in his mouth, and they _burst_ between his teeth. Had anyone else been there, he would’ve been ashamed of the blissful sigh that left him. These were lighter than the wine, and sweeter, but nostalgic all the same. He pulled out a few more, row by row. What had surprised Cassian so much about the gold though?

“So, 900 was too much? What are the prices like in al-Mariyah?” he asked.

“Eret, the most expensive bolt of silk I ever laid eyes on was 50 dinar. That was light purple with thread of gold embroidery. _50._ We’ve come in to a small fortune, we won't even _need_ to sell the scales! Well, maybe we will, or even should, but we can get everything we want!” Cass huffed a bewildered laugh, “We can get white silk so Snotlout can play with his dyes, silk thread and proper needles, enough ginger to knock Astrid _out-”_

 _“Easy_ Cass. Dragons or not, we don't want to attract thieves.” he warned.

“Yes… But, if Father is there, we could leave our bags on the boat! I'm sure some of the flock won't mind playing guard dog.” Cass mused.

“And, speaking of…” he fiddled with the fruit to pluck a few more seeds, “Think we can look around for him, once we get there? If they aren't in port already I mean. And, not all the way to the Pillars or anything, just… a bit more west.”

Cassian kissed his cheek, “Of course.”

“Thank you.” he kissed his husband properly, “But… you'll be okay? With this delivery.”

“I think so.” Cass leaned hard against his arm, “I always wondered where he went for all these powders. It's probably for coloring the glass, he never did tell me what they were. Though… what was that about Jarrah and a doctor? He would faint at the sight of a _nosebleed.”_

“No idea. But I'm sure we’ll find out.”

Just a few days more, and _damn_ was the view worth it. The sea was so blue, he didn't know it could _be_ so many shades, and the sandy beaches were warm. So warm, he stripped down to those long underclothes Cass had insisted on, burrowing down until he could soak it into his bones. His husband hummed his appreciation, fingers trailing along his chest and collarbones, shockingly cool from his dip in the ocean. A shadow blocked out their sun and he glowered at the sky-

Then scrambled away as Nightshade hurled something grey and _thrashing_ into the sand. It was _huge,_ near as big as Foxglove and just as broad, but it's head was flat and wide like some kind of freakish axe. It's under-slung jaws snapped at thin air, until Nightshade’s stinger pierced it's brain. Maybe. It went limp, and he slowly looked to Cassian in mounting horror, only to see a fox’s grin.

“ _...that's_ a shark, isn't it?” he groaned, collapsing back into the sand on jellied legs.

 _“Yes._ ” Cass wheezed, dissolving into raucous laughter.

Later, he humored his husband and helped prise out dozens of it's teeth, so dainty compared to a dragon’s, and packed them away in a spare bag with a little sand to dry. The dragons feasted and once again Skullcrusher ate with _relish_ what the others avoided, skin and strange not-bones…

“Is… Crush okay? He's had a weird appetite lately, only said he was hungry when I asked. But, a different sort of hunger. For more than just food, if that makes any sense.” he frowned.

“Yes, he's just… needing more than meat? Apparently. Like how sheep need a salt lick I suppose. We can check with Valka when we get back.” Cass took his hand, and kissed his knuckles.

There were some dragons still lingering in the sea, which they dutifully recorded. A long serpent with rippling frills that glimmered like constellations at night, and another like a Seashocker but with only one head, and extra rear flippers. They both seemed lonely, but unwilling to leave, not that they would survive in Berk’s frigid ocean anyway. But maybe… they could get along with the people of Montpellier, if the fishermen were so keen on dragons.

Every so often, Eret caught _flickers_ of dragons on land, but no matter what he tried, they always fled. Between Barcelona and Balansiyya they both saw something properly; two dragons flying high overhead. _These_ two answered, diving to their level but staying a cautious distance away, and they were the strangest by far. They weren’t so different from a Stormcutter, with four wings and hip-fins, a long fringed tail and stout legs, and a long skull rather like a Windgnasher’s with a strong underbite. Their long frilled auricles flicked in the wind as they looked sidelong at the flock. The nearer of the two was rosy pink and grey, with a few hints of steely blue, and the other was marbled black and white, _shining_ violet where the sun glinted off it's hide. These dragons too were desperately **lonely,** they had traveled far from cold mountains just hoping to find someone, _anyone_ like them. Of course, they offered the- the _Wingweavers,_ a place in the flock and beyond to Berk. The **joy** that answered was all they needed to hear.

Balansiyya was behind them, and they should reach al-Mariyah by early afternoon. Lightning-Struck-Twice and his mate Rising-Gold-Clouds had come to life overnight, coasting along with bright eyes and eager energy, even the prospects of visiting human settlements didn't worry them one bit. But _Cassian’s_ nerves showed, only growing worse as the day wore on and they drew ever closer. He called for a break just after high noon, before the final push to the city and potentially beyond.

The second they dismounted, he drew his husband in close, gentle, kissing his cheeks and brow.

“I'm _here_ Cass, we can do this. Whatever you need, I'm here.” he murmured.

Cassian nodded once, and Tyrian rubbed against his shoulder, thrumming sweetly. _All_ the dragons did, one by one until Cass wept, one quiet tear at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, it takes active effort to not do The Thing and invoke harmful stereotypes. I, like many people, am not perfect. So if there is ANYTHING objectionable in the portrayal of Jewish and Muslim characters, please, please please tell me.  
> But for a little context, at the time Montpellier was a budding trade center with a considerable Jewish population, and it was quite tolerant for its time. Almeria was similar in that regard, where non-Muslims were required to pay a special tax but they were otherwise allowed to worship freely.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Join us on Discord for art, music, and history!](https://discord.gg/fqHaWdQ)

This was the final push to al-Mariyah. Within an hour the eastern horn of the bay speared the horizon, so close and growing _closer._ Cassian could hardly breathe past the lump in his throat, even the dragons’ **assurance** didn't help. The coast was darker here, more ragged, and with the clouds rolling in the view was starting to match his mood. Only the hope of finding Father kept him focused, leading on over the high crests of the hills to cut overland and out to the bay. The city lay on the far side of a tooth of land jutting from the very center, and they had to check the port first. Tyrian, Nightshade, and Foxglove thrummed, hovering as close together as they dared, for his sake. Dozens of ships passed under them, all sizes and shapes, from fishing skiffs to potbellied galleons, but no twin-sailed northerners. Not yet, he reminded himself.

Al-Mariyah rose, spreading over the hills with the crown jewel, the _Alcazaba_ at it's peak. The sandstone walls glowed rosy-pink above the white-plastered buildings below, and familiar colorful awnings covering the streets and market lanes… Icy tears streaked over his cheeks, whipped away by the wind. He was _home._ But they were on a mission. The port was tucked deep against the western shore of the peninsula, but even from afar neither he nor the eagle-eyed dragons could see Father’s ship. Back out to sea then…

“He's not there yet! Let's keep going!” he shouted to Skullcrusher and Eret.

West they flew, over the far side of the bay. He tried to scan the horizon, but the dragons’ were far better suited for the task. Hopefully Father didn't go to a different city by mistake, there were so _many_ along the coast and it would be easy to get mixed up. They wove back and forth, spreading out to extend their field of view as they rounded the next crest of land. The sea was calm at least, so bright and blue…

It might've been 10 miles from the mouth of the bay that they _finally_ spotted familiar sails, but they were heading the wrong way. The dragons thrilled their **joy** and **relief** , even the Wingweavers, and Cassian let out a shaky sigh, lips cracking into a smile. The flock gathered again and dove towards the ship. There wouldn't be enough room for everyone to land, but the crew made room for Skullcrusher and Tyrian and they threw themselves to the deck, looked around-

“Just a moment, he's down below.” one of the crew said.

Footsteps thundered towards the hatch and up the stairs and _Father_ scrambled out, a little flushed and sunburned, but otherwise just as healthy as they saw him last. Laughing, they swept into a crushing hug, weak with relief.

“Okay, real fast- you need to keep going. The bay is past that spit up ahead.” Eret said, pointing off the bow.

“Oh, damn- Laki!” Father barked, “Turn us east! We're on the wrong side.”

“On it boss!” the man ran to the tiller, hauling the ship about as others adjusted the sails.

 _“Perfect_ timing son.” Father chuckled, ruffling Eret’s hair, “So, your trip’s gone well? And, who’re _they?”_

“The Wingweavers? We found them yesterday, and there are more dragons in the ocean here, _new_ ones!” Eret laughed, swatting his father’s hands away, “But, it's gone well. Even went toe to toe with a _king_ in Normandy! And… we picked up something in Montpelier, gotta deliver it. To the glass shop.”

“Oh…” Father’s smile fell, “If you want to get that over with, you're welcome to leave some of your kit here. It'll be a few hours yet before we hit port.”

“Thank you.” Cassian swallowed hard, “I know it's a lot to ask, but could you-”

Their father’s face softened, “Of course lad. Let's get these dragons sorted.”

The Reapers dropped off their trunks and he retrieved the Levi’s chest, before calling down Lantana and Datura to relieve them of their packs. Nightshade and Foxglove insisted they were fine, so they just took the extra gear off Tyrian and Skullcrusher. Father clambered onto Lantana’s shoulders while they got back in their own saddles. He instructed the rest of the flock to stay and guide the ship to port, and they were more than happy for a rest. The crew was used to their dragons by now at least, some even seemed to _like_ them.

They flew right back to al-Mariyah, and Cassian kept a white-knuckle grip on the crate over his lap. The house was on the fringes of the city, same as the potters and blacksmiths, to spare the masses the heat and smoke of the furnaces. They would go directly there, he wanted this finished today. Rip out the arrow and bandage the wound, regardless of the pain. Even from above, as they passed over the port and winding streets, he still _knew_ all this, and knew it well. And alarm was rising. Not full screams, not yet, but it might not stay that way for long. They should be careful, and three dragons might be too much. Soon they were close enough to land in the wide main lane and walk the rest of the way, so land they did, one at a time.

“Sorry Skullcrusher, not quite enough room for you where we’re going.” he sighed, patting the dragon’s neck.

The Rumblehorn drooped, but understood and took back to the air with a quick gallop. He could go guide in the rest... Anxious faces peered out of windows and doorways, down back alleys and around corners, and the only thing he could think to do was wave. Home was just around the corner, a minute more. He hitched the crate higher on his hip, bones like lead and he couldn't _breathe-_

“If you aren't ready…” Eret murmured.

He shook his head, “I just want to finish this. Only a little further…”

Familiar odors of burning stone and sand were already on the breeze, and he forced himself forward. He knew these walls, every crack and rut in the cobbles, the loose flagstone three steps up the hill, the shutters five houses down that _still_ hung crooked… nothing had really changed. Of course it hadn't. One right turn more, and there it was. The house- _home_ was set back a ways from the street, right against the steep, stony hill with it's sparse brush. There were still lantanas and foxgloves out front, and the spindly hedge, the tree, bigger now, around the back he used to climb to the roof. He breathed deep, steeled himself, and **asked** the dragons to wait out of sight. It only took a look, and Eret nodded. He would be just a step behind.

It took every ounce of his power to keep his hands steady and strides even as he crossed the yard, and knocked on the door.

“Coming! One moment-” 

His heart froze mid-beat, blood turning to ice. The door opened, and the crate hit the ground.

“Cassy?” 

_“Saffy.”_ someone said, sounding like a wounded animal.

The small figure collided with his chest and he desperately grappled her closer. Every breath was broken glass and fire and he couldn't see through his tears. A sob broke him and he buried his face in dark curls that smelled of _roses._

“Safiyah, who-” 

Glass shattered and he forced himself to look up. It… _might've_ been Zayd in the doorway, he couldn't see, but that figure tackled them both. Had he always been so much taller than his siblings? They both fit so neatly, he didn't even have to _reach_ around their shoulders. And he wept, for far too long.

He probably looked a mess when he finally got himself back under control, he could feel how badly his eyes had swollen and they itched _terribly._ But he tried to scrub his cheeks dry, steady his breathing, actually _speak_ to his family.

“Where have you _been?”_ Safiyah croaked, “Whe- what are you  _wearing?”_

She and Zayd both leaned back, almost aghast as they took in the scales and leather.

“If I told you, you wouldn't believe me.” he almost laughed, his body felt so far away.

“What could it possibly be?” Zayd, mercy he looked so much _older._

“All those stories about dragons, when we were children?” his smile grew, “They  _aren't_ just stories.” 

He **called** to Tyrian and Lantana and they raced around the corner, dragging Father with them. They knew at a glance who his brother and sister were and slowed, stared, _wiggled_ with their excitement. Safiyah approached first, slow and silent with awe, but Zayd took a step back. Lantana sniffed his sister’s hands, her face, purring so _loud_ with her pupils blown to black pits while Tyrian tip-toed closer, **hopeful** but **uncertain.**

“There are still dragons in the wild places, even _here._ We’ve found three species in as many days! And there are so many more where we live, I-” the words caught in his throat, “I couldn't stay, this life was  _smothering_ me, but- you deserved to know I was leaving. I'm so _sorry.”_

Zayd’s shoulders dropped, “We- was it really that  _bad?_ Father always tried to make time for those ‘special talks’, he was looking for a good marriage so you wouldn't be chained here your whole life-” 

He laughed bitterly, “That implies he  _said_ anything in those ‘talks’. He made it sound so important, like I actually _mattered,_ but he never had the will to say what was worth dragging me out to that hill for. Ten years I waited for answers Zayd, and I still don't know what he was trying to tell me. But a marriage _?_ I managed _that_ all on my own.” 

Tyrian seized the moment of distraction to thrust his nose into Zayd’s chest, thrilling with **joy.** But a door slamming set the Nadder bristling. He jumped, then froze.

 _Reza_ stood before the threshold, haggard, fuming, and so _old._

“Insolent _boy-”_ the old man seethed, “You  dare come home, dressed like a fool with these barbarians _,_ _married_ without my blessing?”

Cassian’s blood _burned_ and Tyrian hissed, gathering Zayd into his wings.

“You watch your _tongue,_ you no longer know to whom you speak.” he snapped, shoulders squaring as he stood taller, “And you will not insult my  _family_ and all I have built for myself.” 

Lantana rolled against his back, lips curling to bare her teeth as Tyrian rumbled even lower. Reza retreated a step, colliding with the door as fear won over his anger.

“And the wedding?” he scoffed, “You wouldn't have given your blessing  _anyway,_ don't flatter yourself. I married for _love,_ and nothing on earth or in heaven could’ve changed that.” 

“Who _is_ it?” Reza sneered, so bitterly.

Rage simmered like pure sunlight in his veins, he wanted to shout the truth for all off al-Mariyah to hear-

But the _right_ answer came, clear as a bell, and he smirked.

“I'll tell you _when you're older.”_ he said, smile growing as Reza’s face turned to ash.

He stooped to gather the packets where they'd fallen, dumped them back into the crate and unceremoniously shoved it all into Reza’s arms.

“Your delivery from the brothers-Levi of Montpelier. I'll be in town a few days if you remember how to act your age.” 

He turned on his heel, but stopped where his siblings hid behind Tyrian’s flank. Zayd was almost afraid, but Safiyah… her eyes were as _stars._ He breathed deep to steady his heart, to banish all that fury from his face. Safiyah deserved better than that.

“We’re after something to eat, if you'd like to come along.” he said, gesturing down the hill.

Zayd looked to their sister, wary and uncertain, but she was already rushing to his side.

_“You're_ paying.” she said, clinging to his arm.

“Of course. Tyrian, Lantana, let's go.” he called to the dragons.

The Nadder gave one last hiss in Reza’s direction before turning tail, and Zayd followed after. Eret and Father waited by the garden gate, quietly proud as they patted his shoulders.

 _God,_ Safiyah was a proper lady now, it almost hurt to look at her. They had always looked the most alike in many respects, but her cheeks were fuller, round and bright with her smile, with one little dimple on the right. And she still favored yellow, for her dress and hair-wrap, she even wore the first flower pendant he'd ever made around her neck on the same leather cord. Regret seared in his throat for a long moment as they meandered down to the market, drawing whispers and stares along the way.

“You really named a purple dragons _purple?”_ she eventually quipped, glancing back at Tyrian.

Eret snickered, and his face warmed.

“So what if I did?” he pouted, “It's better than  _Skullcrusher.”_

“Hey! Stoick named him, not me!” Eret huffed.

Safiyah and Zayd both stared, caught off-guard.

“Oh.” she squeaked, “You… speak Andalusi.”

“A little. Cassian’s an _awful_ teacher.” Eret smirked.

“Am _not!”_

“Horrible, a brute-” 

“Eret, Odin help me I will _end_ you.” he grumbled in Norse, the turn of phrase coming without a thought.

Eret _and_ Father chuckled, elbowing each other as they walked. He glowered, but as he turned back Safiyah _looked_ at him, too keen and too knowing as she searched his face.

“I will explain later. Somewhere quiet.” he murmured, and she nodded minutely.

She would understand, she was the only one to even _know_ how badly he didn't want to marry. And, she could keep a secret. He _wanted_ her to know, she deserved to.

“So…” Safiyah sighed, squeezing his arm, “Where have you  _been?_ Six years Cassy…” 

He wilted, folding her hand into his, “I… wandered, for a long time. Wound up in the Shetlands, the far north of Angleland. And from there, well.  _That's_ how I came to Berk, met Tyrian, saved the chief of the village, single-handedly ended a years-long war-” 

“You did _not,_ stop bragging.” Eret scolded, yanking a lock of his hair.

“They don't know that! Let me have my fun!” he pouted, swatting Eret’s hands away.

_“You_ were fighting in a war?” Zayd raised an incredulous brow.

“Think these knives are just for show? They're _dragonsteel,_ lighter and stronger than anything down here, and you wouldn't believe my _armor.”_ he chuckled, “You don't get arms like  _this_ from making wine glasses either. The very man we defeated came here over the winter to trade, and probably will again soon. Just like- Eret sr. Wood, furs, the like.” 

Zayd blinked, “Great mountain of a man, short red beard? And, didn't speak Andalusi.”

“Sounds about right. Dare I ask what happened?” he quashed a long-suffering sign.

“Nothing of note. I _think_ anyway, I only heard he wasn't too aware of his own size. Bumped a few people on the street, knocked into some low-hanging signs, nothing malicious.” Zayd shrugged.

“That's a relief… He can behave without us breathing down his neck.” his thoughts shifted as the scent of honey and spices wafted by on the breeze, “Does Old Man Tio still make those honeyed dumplings?”

“He retired, but his nephew took over. They're _almost_ as good.” Safiyah giggled.

“Oh, and Ahmad’s stuffed dates?” 

“Better than ever! He switched to pistachios for the filling. Dullah’s pies are all gristle now, don't bother.” her nose wrinkled adorably.

_“Dullah_ -y noted.” he said, and waited.

Safiyah gawped at him, then swatted his arm, “That was  _awful!_ You should be ashamed!” 

He laughed deeply as he shielded himself from his sister’s hands, and over one shoulder he caught glimpses of the tender smile that warmed Eret’s face. The dragons too were **content** with his joy, and **curious** about all the new things to smell and see. Lantana especially nosed under Safiyah’s other arm, purring like thunder while Tyrian dropped his chin atop Zayd’s head.

“Are… _all_ dragons like this?” Safiyah asked quietly, after a moment.

“Most. Not all, but _most.”_ he said honestly, and Lantana thrummed, “Some are just reclusive, or standoffish, a few one might even call  _cruel._ But on Berk, we live in peace together. We help each other, and we want to build a better world for man and dragon alike.” 

Awe spread over her face like the dawn and his heart soared.

“We have others with us, they're helping get the ship to the right bay.” he continued, “Lantana’s daughter, Tyrian’s mate and children, Skullcrusher, and- Foxglove.”

They wouldn't understand _her_ story, not quite yet. In time perhaps.

They found a place to sit along the cliffside walls, looking over the port with mountains of snacks spread between them. Sweet and savory, new and familiar, and his mouth watered. The dragons had tucked themselves out of the way, but they still attracted a crowd. He hoped this wouldn't bring guards-

Eret nudged him, “Which ones are the honey-cakes?”

“Over here. And don't just fill up on _sweets,_ this isn't our only day here.” he scolded.

“You aren't my dad.” Eret pouted, snatching the packet anyway.

“But _I_ am. Eat properly.” Father elbowed his back.

Eret huffed, pouting even harder and he snickered, drawing confused stares from his siblings.

“He's just being fresh.” he giggled a little more, “But- Affan is still a silversmith?”

“Yes, on the verge of his Mastery. He really is quite good, and he expects to take over a larger share of the shop ones he's approved by the guild.” Zayd said, munching on a few herbed almonds.

“We’ll have to pay him a visit. And… Jarrah?” 

Safiyah rolled her eyes, “Finally lured away by that doctor from Cordoba, he moved there last year.”

“When was there a doctor? Isn't he too old to apprentice?” that was what baffled him most.

“He started showing up about five years ago. _I_ think the man just wanted a personal glassmaker, but Jarrah was _convinced_ he would get to train for real.” Zayd slowly shook his head, “He still visits sometimes.”

“And, your wife, the kids?” 

“They're well, Ali lost his first tooth last week.” Zayd smiled, so warmly.

“And _don't_ ask.” Safiyah cut in, scowling, “I'll get  _snakes_ involved if Father tries to bring more suitors around, especially that bastard from Balansiyya. Mark my words, he's been _killing_ his wives. You don't lose five in as many years to childbirth, and those are just the ones we _know_ of!” 

_“What?”_ he hissed, looking quickly between them.

“Time is apparently ‘running out’, as if I was a fruit about to _rot.”_ Safiya fumed, “It's getting to the point where he may just take the next offer, even if it  _is_ the Bastard.” 

Cassian drew a slow breath to calm the fury as it rose with his pulse.

“Saffy, if you do fear for your life, I'll do _everything_ in my power to keep you safe. You only need ask. Even- if we had to take you with us.” 

She stared, shocked silent even as Tyrian nuzzled into her hair.

“Cassian, you would rob our parents of _another_ child?” Zayd frowned hard.

“To save her life when Father doesn't seem to care? _Yes.”_ he glared, until his brother averted his eyes, “We got here in nine days.  _Nine_ Zayd, you are not beyond reach thanks to our dragons. And I have status in Berk, that was no boast. I even my own glass forge! It may be cold, but it is a _good_ life and she would be free to marry as she chose, _if_ she chose it.” 

Zayd’s frown deepened, lips pressing thin, but Safiyah clamped down on his arm, desperate and hopeful.

“You mean that? _Cassian_ if you jest-” 

“I would _never._ Saffy this is your life  we’re talking about.” he ducked close and spoke low, “We can talk later, somewhere we won't be overheard. But if I can't knock some sense into Father, you'll need to be ready to leave, and quickly. And believe me, we  _will_ be having another talk.” 

She nodded, breaking into a wobbly smile and he patted her cheek.

“Now, let's finish this up. Once the rest of the flock gets here, we came make a break for the hills.” 

The boat pulled into port soon enough, covered in lounging dragons. Zayd had to return home, Eret and Father would need to manage the ship and it's cargo, leaving him and Safiyah to rally the flock out to the beach for some peace and quiet. He could ride Lantana just fine, but Saffy needed the security of Tyrian’s saddle. Datura, Foxglove, _everyone_ knew who she was in an instant and jostled for her attention once claws hit the sand.

“Back off a bit now, give her some _space.”_ he scolded, “We’ll be here for days, you have time.”

All the attention left Safiyah overwhelmed, so he guided her to a bit of driftwood to sit.

“I'm… sure you have _real_ questions.” he said, so suddenly nervous.

“You're married.” she said, searching his face again,  _“You,_ who ran away to escape betrothal.” 

“Yes. We chose each other, the wedding was this spring.” 

“It's _him,_ isn't it?” 

He stiffened, but her hand closed around his wrist, squeezing gently.

“Is it that obvious?” he muttered, face burning.

“Only because I know you. The matching vests and rings helped a little.” she shrugged.

“And… you don't mind?” he swallowed hard.

She shook her head, “Sisters-in-law have been such a pain, I'll gladly take in another brother.”

He sniffled, awkwardly wrangling her into a hug. Of _course_ she wouldn't care. They were cut from the same cloth, now as always. But now he could help _her._ He pulled away, scrubbing his cheeks dry again.

“If I can't convince Reza that you deserve to live as you choose, you can fly home with us. It won't be easy, you’ll only be able to bring what you can pack in a few bags or a trunk. Your warmest clothes, jewelry, anything you can't easily replace.” he drew a deep breath, “I don't know how long we’ll stay. Three days at the  _very_ least, and we’ll be camping with Father’s boat. If anything happens, you'll be safe there.” 

Safiyah nodded, smile failing.

“Tonight, you should organize. Start gathering what you need. If you're low on oils or soaps, we can get more. I doubt you’ll have anything fit for _Berk’s_ winter, but we can get that sorted later. It’ll put Snotlout over the moon-” 

_“Who?”_ Safiyah reared back, almost appalled.

“Yes, that will  be a bit of an adjustment. The names on Berk are strange, but it is their way.” he chuckled, “We’ll try to get a saddle ready, for one of the Wingweavers… and we can teach you some Norse along the way.  _If_ that’s what it comes to.” 

“Do you have a plan? For Father. He's only gotten _more_ stubborn, and bitter besides. Jarrah leaving for Cordoba, _me_ refusing betrothal… you.” she frowned, “You  _were_ special to him, but I don't know why. Maybe he didn't know how to show it. And he always got so sad just after-” 

_“Before_ my birthday. I noticed. He made a show of trying to tell me something important, but always made some excuse at the last moment. I got _sick_ of waiting for him to make up his mind. And I want answers _,_ even if he needs some convincing from the _dragons_.” he sighed.

“Just… be careful. He's been getting sick more often lately, that's why he didn't go to Montpelier or up north. Those winter trips he always used to take, where he didn't come back with anything.” 

He nodded. That was just another mystery, but considering the _timing…_ it could be related. Foxglove knocked into his back, thrumming **pack** and **kin** like a mantra as she moved on to Safiyah.

“So, tell me about them. You said there were more than _this_ right?” she asked, patting the dragon’s brow.

“Yes, _many_ more. Nightmares that set themselves on fire, Scauldrons that swim in the sea and spit boiling water… _they_ aren't particularly nice, but they'll leave well enough alone. Little Terrors, Gronckles, Changewings, Silver Phantoms, Hotburples…” he smiled, scratching Datura’s chin, “But, Foxglove is our foster-daughter. We raised her ever since I found her in a cage last year, on a trapper ship.”

“Your… foster-daughter?” Safiyah squinted.

“Would you believe me if I told you they could speak? Not in _words_ as such, and very few can hear them. Me, Eret and his mother, the chief of Berk and _his_ mother Valka… To them we are kin, part of the pack, and Foxglove knows Eret and I as Father. They _all_ knew right away that you were family, so you're kin too.” he looked over nervously as Datura thrilled in **agreement.**

Safiyah looked… uncertain, pursing her lips as the Wingweavers took their turn saying hello, especially Gold-Clouds. After a moment she gave a little shrug, hugging around the dragon’s snout and tickling her chin-whiskers.

“There are stranger things on this earth I suppose…” she said, “What’s that  _like?”_

“Imagine… the intentions and meaning of a word, condensed to a pure _feeling_ and it's all directly in your head. But we can also share whole memories, sights and sounds. I've seen events from before I was even _born_ this way, from Lantana.” he struggled to explain, but the Light Furies yipped in support.

“And the _big_ one is Eret’s dragon?” Safiyah peered over his shoulder, to Skullcrusher wallowing in the sand.

He chuckled, “Yes, he is. Crush used to be the partner of the previous chief of Berk, before he fell in the war against Drago Bluvist. All of  _that_ happened just after we met in the Shetlands, a little over two years ago. He left, then came back on Skullcrusher the next spring, for _me…”_

He sighed wistfully, and Safiyah snickered.

_“What?”_

“I never would’ve thought you would turn into a hopeless romantic!” she leaned harder on Gold-Clouds, still laughing.

“Am _not!”_ he squawked, and all the dragons chimed their **disagreement.**

They got Safiyah home well before sundown, parting with one last hug and a promise to see her tomorrow. There would be must to do, but for now they could all rest and Skullcrusher would stand guard across the end of the dock. Eret had stowed all their bags safely below deck and out of sight it seemed, he needed to know what they had planned. 

_“There_ you are.” Eret rushed forward, but forced himself to stop and took his pack instead.

Right, they were still in view… he hated this secrecy.

“Just getting Safiyah home safely. I'll be having a _talk_ with Reza again, about her future and if he won't listen… we need to help her escape. She's _just_ as clever as me, always was. So if she thinks that man is a threat? I believe her.” he frowned, fiddling with his belt-bag, “I told her to start organizing and get ready to pack, and we can work on a saddle for one of the Wingweavers.”

“Maybe _two.”_ Eret said, “I… talked to Dad, about heading home with us. There were a few close calls along the way, and he doesn't want to wait until next spring to get back to Berk.”

“No, that's a good idea. The cottage is done, there's no reason to wait. There is a blacksmith fairly close, we could commission a few buckles… four? Yes that should work.” he **called** one of the Wingweavers closer, “A band _here_ with stirrups and a padded seat, another band _here_ between the spines with handles. We could use canvas, scraps of sailcloth if there are any.”

“That should work… They could carry a trunk or net like the Reapers too.” Eret agreed.

Lightning thrummed **question** as he sniffed Tyrian’s saddle, **question** and **self** , a saddle for him? He **affirmed,** but it would be **soft** and **light,** to carry their **kin** , their **pack** home. Lightning and Gold-Clouds chuffed back and forth for a time with growing **excitement** , encouraged by Datura and Foxglove rubbing against their legs.

“There is a bathhouse close by we can go to, before it gets any darker. I would _kill_ a man for a proper hot bath.” he grimaced, hyper-aware of a week's worth of dirt and grime.

“Yeah, I wouldn't mind going to bed clean.” Eret’s nose wrinkled.

They made the long walk on foot, hauling along their laundry and last clean change of clothes, plus a few copper falus for the fees. They had a good long soak, washed themselves and their clothes, and brought everything back to hang out and dry overnight. It was still early, so he finally unwrapped his lute to play for a time. He would have to see Ahmed tomorrow…

Cassian woke to find Eret's arm dangling out of his hammock, knuckles just brushing the back of his hand. His heart fluttered at the sight, and he shifted enough to lace their fingers together. How he _missed_ this…

They all roused in time, ate a light breakfast, and braced themselves for the day. News of a trading ship would have spread by now, they should lay out what there was to sell before the merchants came looking. There was plenty of timber, seal and rabbit furs, even a few pieces of leatherwork.

“We can be your middlemen, but we’ll need a full list of stock on the wood, in case anyone asks.” Eret huffed, setting another stack of planks down.

 _“Can_ do little-Eret.” Laki chortled, lumbering back into the hold.

Eret pouted, but he slipped closer and elbowed his side, whispering, “If _only_ he knew.”

 _“Cass!”_ Eret squawked, face blazing.

He scampered away, cackling madly as even the dragons laughed.

It seemed a different kind of word spread. As the morning wore on, crowds gathered everywhere there was a view of the port, of the _ship_ covered in dragons. An idea slowly blossomed in his head, and he **called** the dragons together. They were going to **play.**

“I'll be _right_ back.” he announced, smile growing.

“Uh. Okay? I'll just be right here.” Eret went back to organizing.

Tyrian crouched as he leapt into the saddle, and took to the air with a few quick hops. Datura, Foxglove, _everyone_ followed and the gathering crowds gasped. He led the flock around, higher, still in easy sight and then the show began. The Furies tumbled and twirled, leading the Reapers on a merry chase while Cassian eased himself out of the stirrups. Foxglove swooped overhead, close enough to grab her claws and dangle below as they angled away. From there he dropped gently onto Skullcrusher’s back and as Nightshade pulled up off his left flank, he slid down the Rumblehorn’s wing to join her. Valka had taught him well after all. On and on they went, diving and leaping and every dare-devil stunt he could think of, _showing_ al-Mariyah what dragons and people could do together. No fire, no fury, just freedom _._ In one last display, he and Tyrian led the rest in a long train past every terrace, path and wall, coasting slowly just out of reach. But up on the Alcazaba they had another audience, gathered at all the seaward walls. With that many guards, all that staff, the emir must be there. Whoever it was this year. Perhaps, one more finale…

With a touch, Tyrian crossed the city towards the hilltop fortress. **Caution** he warned his flock, fly **low** , under the level of the walls. They couldn't go over, no that would be a _threat,_ too dominating. The line of dragons banked around the rosy parapets, saluting with the broadside of their wings as hundreds of eyes followed, and thank the _gods_ no arrows flew. With the circuit complete, they coasted back to the ship and Cassian let go of the breath he had held. Now that they had all this attention, maybe they could empty the ship by noon. And, even sell some scales.

Only Tyrian landed, just long enough for him to hop off before rejoining the flock, heading out to sea for food. Eret passed over his scaled vest, forgotten in the heat in the moment and he gladly shrugged it on. They had to look the part, and it wasn't _too_ hot today, thankfully. Fat-bottomed clouds skittered by in the stiff breeze, but they did nothing to dull the sapphire-blue of the sky. The day was young, and there was work to do, if the rapid footsteps down the pier were anything to go by.

The wood went quickly, the furs even quicker, but the scales, those _flew._ Single scales, whole bags, random handfuls or matching sets, it all went. They kept some in reserve, like the gems, and it must've been another 400 dinar they added to their coffers. It was hard to tell, they were paid mostly in copper felus and silver dirham. But most of the crowd wanted to see the dragons, once they returned. Even Nightshade and Foxglove were lavished with attention, once he and Eret made it clear they had to be treated gently. Children clambered up legs, swung off tails, and ran squealing from dragon-kisses, but there were just too many to offer flights around the city. With only two seasoned riders and saddles, it just wasn't safe _._ Lunch finally lured the masses away and the whole crew heaved a sigh of relief. Great as it went, that was _hectic._

 _“Thor_ blow me down.” Father wheezed, dropping heavily onto the nearest crate.

“I must agree. _What_ a morning.” he chuckled.

“The ship’s riding a whole foot higher!” Eret shook his head, strolling back from the rail.

The dragons lounged all over the ship, weary from the attention and glad for a chance to nap. Maybe now they could get some shopping done, and… visit Affan too.

“So, who wants lunch?” he said, dusting his hands off.

“I'm in!” Father lurched back to his feet.

“Coming! Oh, hold on, my belt-” Eret skipped back below deck.

Oh, good idea. He should put the surplus coin away too, and get that little bag of gems he had set aside. If Affan’s masterwork was in the making… he wanted to help. So he followed, emptied his pockets, tucked the little drawstring bags he needed into his belt-pouch, fastened the buckle, and tucked a handful of coins into his secret pocket. Eret was likewise finishing up, they were alone for once… Their eyes met in the gloom and in two steps, they slotted into each other’s arms. Just for a moment, while they could. He breathed Eret in, and kissed him slow.

“I _hate_ this… hiding away.” he grumbled, sagging against Eret’s chest, “It's not _fair.”_

“I know.” Eret turned, pressing a kiss to his temple, “But _look_ how quickly the city turned around for dragons. Who knows what more could change?”

“Maybe… But some convictions run stronger than others, it's their holy books that condemn us, but- it can't _all_ be right. How could God create man, capable of feeling this much, then declare it a sin?” his throat ached with bitterness, “Safiyah knows, and she doesn't care. That's all that matters to me.”

Eret nodded, saying nothing more as he rubbed slow circles into the back of his neck.

“Father is waiting… and I wanted to find Affan, and my old music teacher. I think you'll like him.” he finally cracked a smile, “And we can get a first look at what’s in the market, before we start buying.”

“Sounds like a plan. C’mon, up we go. And let's get Crush parked in front of the door, we don't need any thieves getting funny ideas.” Eret gave him a little push.

“Yes yes, I'm going…”

He snatched his lute from the hammock as he passed and slipped the strap over his shoulder, squinting against the sun back on deck. With the barest thought he **asked** Crush and Nightshade to guard the cabin doors. Across the ship, Father was in the thick of an almost-conversation with a man on the pier, maybe a crafstman?

“Oh, boys! _There_ you are! Come, this gentleman’s been trying to ask something.” Father waved them over.

“I gather the timber is all gone?” the man sighed.

“I'm afraid so. _But_ another trading fleet is on the way, though I can't promise when. I don't suppose you recall an odd, tall man selling timber from a large ship last winter?” the man thought, and nodded, so he continued, “The very same fellow, with even  _more_ to offer I'd wager. Same quality and size. I speak their tongue, so I'll help if they arrive soon.” 

The man sighed, “Well, that's not the  _worst_ news. But, a whole fleet?” 

“I assume. There will be _no_ missing it, you can be sure of that. I have my own business with some of them, so I'll be on the lookout. Is there somewhere I could send word?” he asked, hitching the lute strap higher.

“Ah, Hussani’s workshop, behind-” 

“Ahmed’s? Yes, I know the one. We were on our way there actually, this poor old thing needs a checkup.” he gestured to his instrument, “I know it's not the best, but I'm nothing if not sentimental.”

That seemed to put the craftsman at ease, so back into the city they went, up all the winding streets and hills. But the Alcazaba still loomed overhead, and it left him uneasy in a way he couldn't place. They best be on their guard.

“Ahmed… isn't he the one that made your lute?” Eret asked, once the craftsman went his own way.

“Yes. He was my teacher, like a second grandfather to me. There were _many_ nights I snuck out of my room for more lessons, and… he's the one that wrote _Once.”_ he smiled softly.

“I thought _you_ wrote that…” Eret reddened about the ears.

“The _words_ are mine, I was never that good at making my own music.”

That could be their first stop, after lunch from one of his old favorites: flatbreads filled with a thick stew of onions, leeks, lentils, the occasional bit of lamb, and not _too_ many herbs. They ate as they walked and he pointed out his old haunts, from the pomegranate tree he and Safiyah would climb, to the fountains they dared each other to jump in. It all felt so far away now, like a dream…

“Here we are.” he said, more to himself as he nudged the old teal door open.

The smells hit him all at once; old wood and resin and wax and cedar, turning his knees to jelly. But he forced himself in, one step and then another, and a distant file-on-wood stuttered to a stop.

“Grandpa Ahmed?” he called, and his voice cracked, damn.

“Have my ears finally gone..?” a smoky old voice rasped a room away, “Little Cassian?”

“It's me.” he croaked, and rushed ahead.

In the door of the workshop he froze, as Ahmed struggled out of a chair to meet him. He was so old now, hair all white, back bent, and eyes still clouded, but Ahmed dragged him into a crushing hug anyway. He clung back just as tight, sniffling as Ahmed patted his back, light at first then more firmly.

“Dear boy, what have you been _doing?_ You're broad as a warhorse, and- what's all this?” Ahmed exclaimed, fingers testing the edge of a few scales, “And what's all this talk of  _dragons?”_

“Dragons are how I got home, and those would be their scales. I've… been on quite the adventure.” he sniffed again, scrubbing his cheek, “Even brought the old lute back, it needs a little healing.”

“Oh really? You best not’ve been abusing the poor thing.” Ahmed huffed, snatching it right off his shoulder, “And who’s with you? I can hear them shuffling about.”

“Ah, that could be my family. My _new_ family, the in-laws.” he corrected.

Ahmed stared in sightless shock, “Cassian, the  _rogue bachelor,_ is married?” 

“Yes, I know. Took me by surprise too.” he sat as the musician returned to work, “But… I found the words, to  _Once._ Took a long time, but it finally came to me.” 

_“That_ bad eh?” Ahmed chuckled, and he was distinctly reminded of Gobber, “Hmm, now the wood seems fine, just needs a waxing, but the strings are awfully dry… Yes, a new set will do.”

He moved with seasoned ease, pulling open a dozen drawers for wax and tools and strings, setting it all out in neat rows. He hummed as he worked, familiar tunes and suddenly Cassian was 10 again-

“No need to linger like ghosts, come in!” Ahmed called after a time.

Eret peeked into the room, entering once he patted the empty space beside him on the bench. Instruments, complete or half-made, still hung all over the walls so there was _something_ to look at. Lutes, ouds, even a proper mandolin… Ahmed had been keeping busy. Father followed a moment later, after a soft sound of appreciation.

 _“Lookit_ that inlay. Is it shell?” he gasped.

“Yes but- he's _very_ picky about touching.” Cassian winced.

“Right, yes. Sorry.” Father shuffled away from the table.

“So _you_ made all these?” Eret asked.

“I finish them these days, my apprentices do the bulk of it.” Ahmed chuckled, “Strange accent you have, a  _tall_ fellow too. Must be from up north.” 

“I- yes. How did you-?” 

“Been blind 30 years lad, you learn how to _listen._ And that makes a man clever.” 

Eret shot a look to him, and he grinned, “Where do you think _I_ learned it from? Who better than a _musician_ to teach you how to hear.”

“How about that.” Eret cracked a wry smile.

With his lute in better sorts they _played,_ and he sang. But there was a knowing gleam in Ahmed’s eyes he was well familiar with by now. If he figured it out, Cassian knew it would be kept secret. There were other places yet to see, they would have to cut this visit short.

“I'm sorry Grandpa Ahmed, but Affan is next on the list and there's _more_ beyond that. We can catch up tomorrow maybe… and perhaps Datura can get in through the front door.” he managed a little laugh.

“Of course. That salty pistachio needs a distraction.” Ahmed laughed with him, hugging around his shoulders and leaning close to whisper, “And I'm glad you found the words,  _whoever_ they're for.” 

“Thank you.” he whispered back.

“I'll bet Crush would love this place.” Eret smiled faintly.

“If that's another dragon, it can park out front.” Ahmed said, nudging Cassian towards the door, “Go on, and get yourself a  _proper_ strap. I won't have you sullying my work with a broken belt.” 

“Yes sir.” he rolled his eyes.

“I _heard_ that boy!” 

He ran cackling from the room, with Father and Eret on his heels until they stumbled back into the street. Which way, which was fastest…

“I see what you mean.” Eret chuckled, “He _is_ like Gobber.”

“Aye, don't need to understand a word to see it.” Father agreed.

“Yes, he is, in many ways.” he shook his head fondly, “I'm sure they would get on like salt and pepper, if it weren't for the problem of language… Ah, _this_ way, come along.”

Affan’s shop was closer to the Alcazaba, and the walls were still thick with observers looking down at the port. The homes here were a little fancier, with ornate latticed shutters and painted doorways, wrought-iron knockers and fittings and garden boxes on the window sills.

“What _is_ that up there?” Eret asked, staring at the fortress with the same unease.

“That is the palace of the emir, he is… a sort of king I suppose? More powerful than a chief, of what they call the _taifa_ of al-Mariyah. That would be the city and more surrounding lands. When I left a man named Al-Jairan was emir, no idea if he still is. The Alcazaba was being reconstructed too…” he hummed.

“They're fixing it? No wonder they need timber.” Father chuckled.

“Oh. Yes, I hadn’t thought of that. They’d need scaffolds and beams, plus more for the homes inside the walls, furniture, shutters…” he shrugged, “Just means the other fleet will sell nicely and my promises will have been fulfilled twice over. Though… Father, _you_ didn't see any northern ships, did you? You would’ve had a few weeks lead, but-”

“Ah, not so much as you think. Tried going around the west of Angleland and the wind was against us the whole way. Slowed us down by at least two weeks.” the sailor grumbled, “But, no, I sure would’ve noticed some of Drago’s old fleet if they were close.”

Cassian frowned, “I don't _want_ to wait around for them but… it might be wise to. Another day or two more than we planned perhaps. The trip was five days shorter than we expected after all, it couldn't hurt.”

“Well, _that_ much is good. We’ll get home just as quickly.” a soft smile blossomed over Father’s face.

“This street, here- and the _blacksmith,_ damn. We can look for some cloth in the markets too… So you have a canvas needle and thread?” he asked.

“Sure do! We’ll get it done lad, don't you worry.” Father reached over to ruffle his hair.

He ducked out of the way, laughing all the while. But they were here. The shop. He wouldn't be surprised if Zayd or Safiyah paid a visit already, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. It was just a silversmith’s shop, come on. He forced himself inside, taking some comfort from Eret’s shadow behind him, and Father’s behind him. The customers’ side of the room was small, little more than a space to stand and a counter blocking off the entrance to the workshop proper. It was a bit _too_ warm, almost stifling, and stank of hot coals and scorched metal, half-masked by the bundles of rosemary hanging from the ceiling. Tiny hammers sounded, saws rasped and bellows hissed, and a voice rang out.

“One moment good sirs! Molten silver is _most_ impatient!” 

Well, that wasn't Affan, but he sounded similarly young. Well, _their_ age, not likely a master smith.

“Don't they sell jewelry?” Eret asked, scanning the room again.

“Yes, but they keep everything in back. You have to ask for what you want to see.” despite it being mid-day, he yawned, “I _was_ thinking to look for something for Astrid. A little ring maybe.”

“Eh, rings aren't really her style, a pendant might work better. Something like that might make a good heirloom-”

“My apologies!” the young smith scurried through the door, mopping his brow, “What can I do for-”

The smith stopped dead, head tilting as he stared, then squinted. This man _was_ young, his own age but fair-haired, maybe Roman? With eyes like sea-glass, he had to be.

“Do I… _know_ you?” the smith asked, fidgeting with his apron.

“You may know my _brothers._ Jarrah, Zayd, Affan..?” Cassian offered.

The man’s eyes widened in recognition and he ducked back into the workshop.

Cassian leaned hard against the counter, drawing a deep breath. Affan was always… difficult, even in the best of times. Obstinate, willful… not so very different from himself really. Just _louder._ And those loud voices rose in the far corners of the building until rapid footsteps approached. 

“Brace yourself.” he muttered, looking back a fraction.

_“Jarrah?_ Jarrah you're ba-” Affan froze in the doorway, and Cassian slowly looked up.

His brother was two years his senior, but didn't look it for a minute. He'd somehow stayed soft and youthful where it mattered. But his face turned to ash as his mouth worked soundlessly, looking everywhere at once. The fair smith and half a dozen others watched over and around his shoulders.

“Hello Affan. I see you're doing well.” he said simply.

Affan sagged against the post, raking a hand through his short hair.

“Does Father know?” he croaked.

“You mean you didn't hear him screaming?” he rolled his eyes, “Yes, we went yesterday. Zayd and Safiyah know too. We have much to do here, but I… I wanted to see everyone.”

“Where have you _been?”_

“A dragon kingdom far to the north. I'm surprised you missed the show this morning.” 

“That was _you?”_ a boy, barely more than a child blurted, wedging next to his brother.

“Am I not covered in their scales? Though, the flock is partly my- sword-brother’s.” he quickly lied.

All eyes turned to Eret, blinking owlishly as they were forced to look _up._

 _“Sword-brother?”_ he muttered, shifting nervously.

“Just play along.” Cassian said cooly, “We… will be here a few more days. I've heard your masterwork is in the making.”

Affan nodded slowly, “Progress is slow… Stones are hard to get.”

“I was _hoping_ you would say that.” he smiled faintly, and dug out the little bag of gems.

He tugged the strings open and tipped a few crystals out onto the counter, all blues and purples, even a few greens. Affan croaked like a bullfrog, and like the rest of the smiths his eyes _bulged._ His brother finally moved, pulling a linen pad from below the counter to empty the rest of the stones over. He had put this bag together for just this purpose, even the smallest of the stones was bigger than a chickpea.

_“How_ did you come by these?” Affan finally rasped.

“Dragons can take you to many secret corners of the world. But for their safety, some secrets need to be kept.” he said, “I've heard them called amethyst, but you should pass your own judgement.”

Affan nodded slowly, swallowing hard, “I- I don't have the coin-”

He held up a hand, stopping his brother short.

“It is a _gift,_ I'll hear no talk of payment. It's… the least I can do.” 

Affan nodded slowly, in wordless thanks.

The blacksmith was next, and a few silver dirham got their buckles on the coals, though they wouldn't be ready till morning. Now they could _finally_ move on to the market.

“So, we will look for now, try to find what we need. I did want to bring back something for _all_ the riders. Leather from Cordoba for the twins, paper for Fishlegs, embroidering thread and needles for Snotlout…” he thought aloud, “As much silk and printed cotton as we can carry of course, and all the foodstuffs… But what about _Valka?_ And Gobber.”

“Valka isn't much for _things,_ maybe some fruit?” Eret offered, “And I'm sure Gobber would be more than happy with some kind of tool, like a hammer.”

“We’ll want to wait until the _very_ last day to get any fresh food…” he nudged Father, who had been silent for a while, “And what would _you_ have with your share?”

“Hmm? Oh, _something_ I suppose.” he shrugged, and his eyes returned to the sea.

Cassian and Eret shared a look, frowns pulling at their mouths. They could talk later... maybe the prospect of leaving the ship behind was weighing on him. It _was_ a big change, but he only had to ask and he would have their support. The fluttering awnings broke that train of thought, and the breeze pulled along all the scents of herbs and spices and yet more street food. The colors were dazzling, the variety distracting, the _possibilities_ overwhelming… Gods he had missed this. Oh, they wouldn't know those little unspoken rules of the market.

“So, don't touch anything unless you're invited to, _especially_ food and fabric. Most food is sold by weight, but bigger fruits are usually per-piece. Stay close, feel free to ask if you're unsure about anything.” he said.

There were silks, so _much_ silk, more than he ever remembered and in every possible color, then the printed cottons from the Byzantines, some linen and wool… and _canvas,_ simple but sturdy. He bought a sizable roll for a few copper felus, better to have too much than not enough. With the bundle under his arm, he led onward, making note of the stalls with silk thread and needles, paper and leather, on and on until they got to the food. Sacks full to bursting lined the street, of lentils, rice, chickpeas, grain of all sizes, sesame seeds and every sort of nut. The spices were kept well out of reach, but bundles of herbs and braids of garlic hung everywhere. There was so _much_ to buy…

This was just for planning, they would bring a dragon or two tomorrow to get the most out of every trip. For now, they returned to the docks with armfuls of food from themselves and the crew. Herbed and salted nuts, fried dumplings and pies, skewers of grilled meat and vegetables… how he had _missed_ the little things. While they ate, they measured and cut strips of canvas, the bare bones of the saddles. They would need the buckles before they could fasten all the bits in their proper places, but they could get those pieces done tonight.

“We don't need to stitch the _whole_ strap, right?” Eret asked as he folded a long strip into fourths for a neck-band.

“Hm, no. Just at a few points on the seam to hold it all together. The handles only need a few stitches too, getting them on the straps will do the rest. Now the seat… we can pad it a bit, make it thicker towards the back.” he squinted, taking a few tries to thread a needle, “We’ll get the stirrups hung right once the buckles and seat are on.”

“I bet we could make a sort of harness, and tie bags together in front of the saddle. So long as they were small at least.” Father offered.

“Uh, boss? Got some fancy-lookin gentlemen coming this way.” one of the deckhands said.

Cassian’s blood ran cold, he _knew_ it was only a matter of time. The guards wore the green and white of the taifa, there could be no doubt. The dragons roused, quietly **wary.**

“Those are the emir’s men, keep calm and mind your manners.” he said quickly.

He stood, dusting off his hands and straightened his clothes, then hair, drawing a steadying breath. The dozen guards and lone official moved swiftly and with purpose, stopping at the edge of the pier.

“Emir Khayran as-Saqlabi al-Amari al-Fatah does _humbly_ request the presence of the dragon tamers at the palace.” the official said, in clipped tones that did little to mask his disdain.

“But of course, if it pleases the emir.” he replied easily, “And does he also request the presence of our dragons?”

The official twitched, almost a flinch, “Just one, the smallest.”

Datura dropped down from the mast when he **called** , yawning wide and blinking slow as she rolled into his hands. The guards shifted uneasily, before turning about and marching back the way they had come with the official on their tail. Take **care,** he warned the Fury, be **wary** but **calm,** and she rumbled her **agreement** , following them to the rail.

“Boys, what-” Father protested.

“We’ll be fine Dad.” Eret said, “We can always call the rest if we need them.”

“Just- be safe.” Father frowned, _fear_ creasing his eyes.

Cassian’s heart twisted and he nodded sharply. They followed a few steps behind, up the winding streets to the wealthiest parts of the city in the shadows of the Alcazaba’s walls. Datura stayed firmly at his hip, buzzing with **wary** energy. She was big enough to hold her own now, so nearly equal to Toothless’s size, but she was still young, and inexperienced. I will keep you **safe,** he swore, but we must be **careful, clever.** She thrummed, blinking slowly.

They soon passed through the outermost gate, under the wary eyes of even more guards to a wide courtyard full of swaying palms, heavy with dates. More buildings filled the space between the outer and middle walls, though many were under construction, and the towers of the keep rose higher.

“You're sure they aren't out to kill us?” Eret murmured, leaning closer.

“Yes, it's just more pageantry. They probably want to be sure we aren't invaders or assassins.” he said.

The official glanced back, and he flashed an innocent smile.

They wound through the outer yard, past fountains and little patches of greenery to another, even _grander_ gate of iron-banded wood polished till it shone. The mosque was in the next yard, surrounded by an expansive manicured garden, and a still pond full of lotuses. Datura vines crawled up trellises against the next set of walls, and he quickly pointed them out to the Fury herself. She purred, prancing over to sniff the elegant blooms and the official whipped around to glare over his shoulder.

“Her _name_ is Datura.” he explained, “She’s never seen the flowers for herself.”

The official blinked slowly and continued his shuffle forward and with a **call,** Datura returned to their side. Eret chuckled, wiping a smear of pollen off her nose. She sneezed anyway.

“Yeah, gotta watch out for that.” his husband teased, ruffling her frills.

Another gate, a few winding sets of stairs, and they were in the most ornate courtyard yet, with fine tiles along the walls and floor, and pools lined with glass mosaics framed the path deeper in. Jasmine and more datura streamed down from the parapets to fill the air with their perfume, but guards still walked the walls above, and lurked in the shadows of the arcade around them. But they waited in greatest numbers on the far side of the court, behind a tall chair covered in plush weavings on a raised dais, conspicuously removed from everything else. It was empty, for now.

“Let's see what happens, but be on your guard. Don't offer more information than he asks for.” he said, low and slow as he scanned the garden again, “Keep still, hands away from your sword. No sudden moves.”

Eret nodded slowly, and the official bid them to stop well shy of the chair as the guards fanned out.

“The emir will be here shortly.” the man sniffed, adjusting his fine silks.

“Of course. I'm sure he is a busy man. Though, if I _may_ ask to spare some of the emir’s time, will your men be needing timber for their works? We do expect another delivery soon, from some tributaries of our kingdom.” he asked, let this be a _little_ display of their reach.

The official paused, before waving a dismissive hand, “A matter for the guilds, not myself.”

He shrugged, and Datura sat neatly at his side, nose raised to sniff the air.

After a time, the Fury’s auricles flicked, and through her he heard the faint echoes of many footsteps. He and Eret both stood straighter, squared their shoulders, _ready_ as the first new guard came into view. It must've been the emir himself next, judging by all the embroidered silk, followed by a dozen men with scrolls and ink and lap-boards, academics maybe? The entourage lingered behind the throne while the emir mounted the dais, sitting with deliberate care and poise. His eyes were hard and keen on them, features strong and sharp over a carefully manicured beard. But... the emir looked more _northern_ than anyone he'd ever seen here, more like the people of London than Rome, with middling brown hair and pale skin. Wait, _al-Saqlabi_ he was a-

The official took a breath to start a long string of names and titles, but emir Khayran silenced him with a wave of his fingers. He seemed content to just _look,_ so they stood in silence.

“You are here to _trade?”_ Khayran asked slowly.

“Yes emir.” he replied, bowing his head minutely, “Our flock is here to carry our goods home, nothing more.”

That _searching_ look returned until Datura sneezed, so hard she stumbled and went cross-eyed after. He couldn't help laughing and neither could Eret, even when she whined **annoyance** and **offence.**

“I almost expected fire.” Khayran said, and a faint crinkle around his eyes betrayed amusement.

“No, she knows to mind her manners. And it takes deliberate force for them to make their fire, they do not do it lightly.” he explained, reigning in his giggles.

“Well, that is some assurance. They will obey your command?” the emir asked.

“A _horse_ may be commanded, a _dog_ obeys, but dragons are neither.” he said, perhaps more firmly than was polite, “They are as intelligent as we are, and we work  _together_ in all walks of life. Farming, building, exploring, anything you can imagine, and we have built a kingdom where man and dragon can live side by side in peace.” 

Khayran considered for a long moment, eyes training on Datura and she stared right back, unwavering. With a wave, the emir’s army of scholars advanced, setting up their boards and scribbling in ink and charcoal. Every so often, they glanced up at the Light Fury and she chirped, auricles rising. 

“Ah, they're making records. Go on, show off.” Cassian gave her a nudge.

She pranced a few steps forward, stretching her wings and flicking her tail, she was used to posing for Fishlegs after all. The scholars worked, handing off sheaf after sheaf of paper until they seemed satisfied. But they might want to see the others…

“So, this is okay?” Eret whispered.

“Yes, the libraries in Cordoba are _legendary_ for their records. Not so different from us really, I’m sure they want the bragging rights to studies of _real_ dragons.” he whispered back.

Datura took the chance to wander a little, approaching one of the younger acolytes paw by paw. The boy, barely a man, looked uncertainly to him but relaxed at his small smile and single nod. **Slow** and **gentle** , he reminded Datura, but she just chimed her **delight.** The Light Fury rubbed her nose all over the boy’s cheeks, brow, even tickling his _neck_ with her breath until she forced a laugh from his belly. All the while, the emir watched and something deeper crossed his face.

“Are there dragons to be found _here?”_ Khayran asked.

He could answer… _mostly_ honestly, “We have only seen two in the sea, and those were new even to us. I fear those that were in the wilds are gone… or deeply hidden.”

The emir nodded once, “My scribes will join you at the docks to document the rest of your… flock. So long as the peace is kept, you and yours are welcome.  _And-”_

Khayran looked pointedly at his official, brows rising a fraction.

“We _would_ like to know if more timber is available.” 

The old man flinched, then looked like he got a whiff of something sour. Cassian pressed his lips tight to make a giggle and he smacked Eret’s arm before he could do the same.

“Of _course.”_ he very nearly squeaked, “There should be plenty to go around. We thank the emir for his consideration.”

They both bowed and the scholars rushed ahead to lead the way, with Datura still firmly attached to get favored acolyte. He forced himself to turn slow and follow calmly with Eret at his side. Once they were a fair distance from the court, he finally let himself laugh.

“His _face.”_ Eret wheezed, stumbling down the last stairs.

“Like he sucked a _lemon.”_ he hiccuped through another fit of giggles.

“A- a what?” Eret scrubbed one eye.

 _Oh._ He grinned like a shark and Eret’s smile dropped.

“Cass, don't you _dare-”_

Father was weak with relief on their return, though they had to keep the reunion short, and the dragons were quite content to be drawn, even measured, as the sun tracked down. There was nothing left to do for the saddles since Father had been working on them, and they were too tired for much else. So, they sat on the rails and watched the scholars watch the dragons, and answered their questions as they came.

“But what of their fire?” the young acolyte asked.

Cassian hesitated. They _were_ over the water, maybe just one demonstration.

“We don't want to cause any distress, so I think only one is suited for a show.” he said.

He **called** Lantana, slyly asking for a _small_ bolt of fire. She gurgled, almost a chuckle before her throat flexed, firegland contracted, and with a rush of air the flame shot into the sky, away from the city. After a heartbeat’s delay it _burst_ into shimmering ribbons like Arvuldil’s fire, drifting in the wind. Cries and cheers of awe rose all over the city, and he was at peace.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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He woke once more to find his dangling fingers entwined with Cassian’s, cool despite the heat of late summer. They had some shopping to do, but they should get the dragons fed _first,_ couldn't risk them ‘sampling’ anything. Plus, he wouldn't mind some alone time with his husband, on the beach, away from prying eyes… With a blanket of course, to spare them from the sand, they wouldn't even need to dress all the way either. Just a nice, quiet start to the day before they got the buckles from the smith then went for the rest of their goods.

A few kisses and a threat to tip the hammock got Cassian out of bed and dressed, and they snacked on some of the leftover food from the night before, roasted nuts and herbed bread. It was good of course, but all these new flavors were starting to get a little overwhelming, Eret almost _missed_ the plain stuff of home. They dusted off their hands, found their places in the saddle, and rallied the flock. Nightshade volunteered to stay behind and guard the ship so they set off to the east, around the horn of the cape al-Mariyah rested on. Tyrian found a nice little cove to leave them in, hidden from sight by land or sea by high craggy walls in the hillside. There, he shook out the blanket in a bit of shade. They still got a nice breeze, and a gap in the crags let a few rippling waves into a pool that was sure to swell with the tide. It was calm, serene even, and the perfect place to relax for a spell. He adjusted the blanket a bit more, then wrestled his husband to the ground.

 _“Eret.”_ Cass whined, struggling for half a moment.

“It's nice out, we’re hidden away, and I want to hold you.” he pouted, then kissed Cass’s neck.

“I _suppose_ I'll allow it…”

They shifted, settled, and Cassian curled against his side, resting on his shoulder. He _missed_ this… being able to relax, live as they chose. Even just a few days of being on-guard was torture, but a few days more and they'd be _home._ Just had to keep that at the front of their minds-

Cool fingers traced the border of his scar and he jumped, hand closing on a fistfull of Cassian’s shirt.

“Sorry-”

“You fingers were cold, it's nothing.” he lied, turning to kiss Cass’s brow, “It's nothing…”

“It still haunts you.” Cassian observed, more statement than question.

He hesitated a long moment, lips pressed thin as he fought between pushing those old memories back... and atually airing it all out. This would really be the first time, wouldn't it? Damn.

“Yes.” he confessed, trailing to a whisper “Sometimes I- I can still feel it, I remember the smell and want to _puke._ I'll never forget the way he laughed _,_ they all did. _Gods_ I'm glad he's dead, just wish I could’ve lopped his head off myself.”

Cass lurched upright, twisting to hover over him, cradling his face as tears rose to overflowing.

“Eret-”

“Cass…” he interrupted, with the barest touch, “It's… not as bad as it used to be. Haven't had a nightmare in months.”

Cassian almost protested, but pressed his lips tight and slowly lay over him, a warmth and weight he sorely missed. He wound his arms over Cass’s back, easy as breathing…

This beach was the perfect balm for an old wound and the peace even sent them dozing off... at least until the dragons returned. **Food** more than one called, **share** Datura chirped even louder, and something hit the sand beside his head with a sodden slap.

Then something _wet_ crawled over his outstretched hand, jellied and _grasping_ at him.

He yelped, flailed, and rolled himself and Cassian away from that _thing._ It was like a bloated leather bag, heaving and _moving_ bonelessly and he wanted to gag just looking at it.

“What.” he croaked, holding Cass closer, “Is _that.”_

“Oh, that's quite a big one. Good work dearest!” Cassian chuckled.

Eret watched in mute horror as Datura pounced on the _thing_ in the sand, pawing at it's limp body.

_“Casswhatisthat.”_

“An octopus. They're edible in _theory,_ but you're better off chewing leather.” Cassian’s nose wrinkled, “They have no bones, so they can squeeze themselves wherever they please. They're quite hard to-”

Shadows darkened the sky as the flock descended, dropping _huge_ silver-cobalt fish on the far side of the cove. The beasts still thrashed, until Skullcrusher and Foxglove dispatched them at least. The biggest was nearly as long and broad as a _skiff_ where did they come from?!

 _“And_ tuna? You've outdone yourselves!” Cass settled more comfortably in his lap.

He swallowed hard, “I don't think I _like_ your fancy Sea.”

The dragons tore into their feast, thrumming in **delight.** Just three of these fish provided enough meat for the whole flock, with plenty left over for Nightshade back on the ship, though Datura was content with her rubbery _thing._ But Cassian sighed.

“Shame we didn't bring my knives, we could have stolen a few steaks. Haven't had tuna in so long…”

Lantana perked, prancing closer after a moment. She sat, then her eyes rolled back as she coughed, her throat spasmed and stomach lurched-

“No! No Tana _don't-_ ”

“Lantana it's okay! Don’t-”

She did.

***

They returned to the ship once Eret could stand without going green. Lantana had made a right mess of him, and they'd _just_ done laundry too. They needed to wash now, re-dress, get ready to face the city… at least this much would be easy. Foxglove would be the first to tag along with her saddlebags, though they were sure to make _many_ trips through the market.

“Before we get started…” he said, “Should we take a look west? See if the fleet is around.”

Eret frowned, but shrugged, “Don't see why not, I’d rather not be surprised when they turn up. And, Dad’s still asleep.”

“Yes, let's let him rest. We won't go too far either, just a look.” he patted Eret’s arm.

Skullcrusher and Tyrian didn't mind a casual flight to nowhere one bit, and they rode high with the coast only just in sight. There were some boats, mostly out to fish, and nothing looked out of sorts… with a quick **request** to both dragons, Tyrian tumbled over Skullcrusher’s back and he dropped behind Eret in the saddle.

“Show-off.” his husband scoffed with a smile.

“And who did I learn _that_ from?” he teased, arms slipping around Eret’s waist.

“Must've been a _terrible_ influence.”

“The _worst-”_

Skullcrusher and Tyrian both rumbled with **exasperation.**

They only flew a little while longer before turning back. That was half a day’s worth of sailing they'd covered and even then, all the way to the horizon, and there wasn't one hint of the fleet. But, he had a nagging suspicion that wouldn't be true for long. Just perhaps not _today,_ or at least not until evening.

By the time they returned, Father was awake and the market would be opening soon. So they took their time, organized their coins, adjusted Foxglove’s pack, and set off once more into al-Mariyah. And people _waved_ to them, brightened, smiled, they were _welcomed_ and it sent his heart soaring. They stopped first at the smithy, and the buckles were quite good. Not as good as Berkian dragonsteel, but they would serve their purpose. Eret tucked them into his belt-pouch while he slipped the smiths a few extra copper felus for their haste. But just outside the door, he hesitated and looked up the street, fidgeting with the toggles on his vest.

“Your sister?” Eret guessed.

“Yes… We should try to see her again today.” he sighed.

“We’ll figure it out Cass.” Eret patted his shoulder, before they turned back downhill.

The market was growing more active now that breakfast was over, and Cassian steeled himself to exercise a _little_ restraint. They could only buy what they could easily load every morning and night, and what the dragons were willing to carry. That would still be hundreds of pounds of goods all told, and they would start with silk. They traced their way back to a particular stall, with dozens of shades of blues and greens and reds. He peered at a few, thinking hard, and a _devious_ scheme bloomed at the back of his mind. He nudged Eret, pointing to the bolts of fabric.

“You remember last Midsummer, with Astrid and her dresses?” he asked.

Eret snorted, “Who could forget?”

“Say we get an even number of blues and greens, and then _one_ perfectly in the middle, teal-ish.”

“Oh she’ll _steam._ Let's do it.” Eret chuckled, nudging him back.

“Eh, what?” Father peered around a hanging bag of scrap fabric.

“Oh, it's just a joke at Astrid’s expense. Pick something nice for yourself, I'm sure Snotlout could make a shirt or two.” he gestured back to the tables.

The merchant, a sweet older woman, was kind enough to unwind a bolt to show it's size, a narrow three feet wide but near 20 long. That was more than enough for a dress, or several shirts, and they were only a dinar or three apiece! With a little bickering they narrowed the purchase down to three shades each of blue, green and red, one teal, one black, and five bolts of pure white, plus two dozen spools of thread in even more colors and as many hair-fine needles. All of that only set them back about 30 dinar, just _30_ when had silk gotten so cheap? The cotton merchant was next, and 20 dinar changed hands for half a dozen bolts of plain white cloth, six more of mixed color and pattern, and more thread. Father did buy a few things, but this didn't seem to be his element. The legendary leathers of Cordoba did catch his eye, so they stopped to pick them over. This would be _perfect_ for Hiccup and the twins both! They took one dyed black, another bleached white, and four still naturally brown, and they were all full-sized cow hides. That would be far bigger than what Berkians were used to, but tricky to pack in the same measure… They settled on stacking and rolling the lot of them and hung the whole of it off Foxglove’s back-plates with a little twine. He'd figure something more permanent later, there was so much yet to buy…

But Fox was _enchanted_ by all al-Mariyah had to offer. The new sights and smells, so many _people_ and no one paid her any mind. Well, her swaying tail and wings left some concerned for their awnings, but it was no different for her than the carts and horses and other unwieldy passers-by. Children watched from around their parents’ legs, gaggles of teenage boys dared each other closer, even flocks of young women stared- but, not at _Foxglove._ He prickled with a certain possessiveness, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. _Let_ them look, Eret was the one thing in this market they couldn't have. Paper, they should get some paper next… 20 leaves of 10 sheets he picked, already folded to a nice book size. The shopkeeper neatly wrapped and tied the bundle so he could safely store it away, and his stomach rumbled. They could take themselves a break for lunch, maybe some of those nice stuffed breads.

“So, that's the twins, Snotlout, Fishlegs- oh, we should get some ink! Then a little more for everyone else… Maybe some chains too, in gold and silver. Affan makes them.” he said.

“Oh, good idea. Though… I don't think Fox'll fit through the door, and we shouldn't leave her sitting out alone. We can get something to eat, unload at the boat and come back.” Eret thought aloud.

“I'll take her back lads, you do what you need to. I'm, ah… feelin’ a bit off.” Father said softly.

They both froze, then pulled Father and Foxglove out of the way, into a little alcove between buildings.

“What's wrong?” Eret pressed, pale as a ghost, “Your head? Or all the weird food-”

“No, no son it's- just been thinkin’ about leaving everything behind. Thought it would be easier. The boys’ve been telling me to go, I've already promoted Laki to captain… Just didn't think I would _last_ long enough to retire.” Father shook his head, slumping, “Won't know what to _do_ with myself without all this.”

With a shared glance, they both hugged him tight, and Eret patted between his shoulders.

“There’s _plenty_ to do on Berk, you'll find your place. We still sail, you'll have Pippin…” Cassian squeezed harder.

“Aye, I'm sure I will. It's all just, sinking in.” Father said, patting back, “I'll be fine.”

Eret’s head rose to speak, but he went rigid and Foxglove hissed with **distaste.** When he looked himself, he _scowled._ Reza stood in the middle of the road, glaring sour as vinegar with Safiyah and- and _Mother_ behind him. Both ladies made a step forward, and the old man snapped back to attention.

“You will _not_ associate with him.” Reza hissed, grabbing Safiyah’s arm.

She froze, doe-eyed for just a moment before she _stormed_ and brought her heel down on Reza’s foot. He yowled, but she paid him no mind, wrenching her arm free before taking their mother by the hand and marching right across the street.

“Traitorous _witch!”_ Reza shrieked, “Throwing your lot in with  him _-”_

Cassian’s blood turned from ice to _fire_ but before he could speak, Safiyah wheeled like a lioness.

_“Listen_ to yourself! You still  don't know why he left?” she seethed, “Someone turned traitor and it wasn't  _Cassian,_ so go be a bitter walnut somewhere else _!”_

Reza looked fit to burst, bright red with veins bulging at his temple, but the crowd had stopped to stare. And they _judged._ He spluttered and turned on his heel, hobbling off towards home. Safiyah still shook, panting like a warhorse with Mother clinging to her arm as they watched the old man retreat. But as calm returned, Foxglove _cooed_ , a strange sound he'd never quite heard before as she took one step, then another towards them both. **Kin** she sang, **grandmother-mine.** But he had to warn her to be **slow** as he untangled himself, rushing to the dragon’s side.

“Safiyah, that was _incredible.”_ he was weak with awe and pride as he grappled her into a hug.

“I've wanted to say that for so long.” she mumbled, still in shock.

Before he could say more they were forced apart and Mother dragged him down, holding him by the face like she used to, so long ago. Her thumbs found the scars on his cheeks while her wet eyes searched, as if she didn't believe what she saw. He covered her hands with his, and sniffled.

“I'm sorry Mama, I- I should've said something.” he rasped.

"You're _damn_ right you should've. All this time, and you come in like a fairytale prince-” she huffed, then jolted when Foxglove nuzzled her shoulder, _cooing_ again, “What is it  doing _?”_

“She knows you're my mother. Her kind have very strong bonds, so my family is as hers.” he nudged the Sickle-Scale back a fraction, “I've raised her since she was barely out of the egg, yolk-scab and all. She's… as a child to me.”

Foxglove thrilled, pupils blown wide as Mother hesitantly patted her brow, then looked beyond to Eret and Father, who still grinned their approval.

“Proper _spitfire_ she is, I expected no less.” Father chuckled, fixing his hair a little.

“If she's anything like her brother, Berk's in trouble.” Eret agreed.

Mother looked uncertainly back, “Who... are they?”

“My in-laws.” he said simply. Not a complete lie.

She stared in silent, owlish disbelief before sneaking another peek.

“How tall is your _wife?”_ Mother asked, hushed and near scandalized.

He snorted, trying to mask a laugh, “Not so tall as that! But, not  _shorter_ either.”

_“Don't_ tell me there are children, I couldn't-”

“No!” he blurted, maybe too quickly, “No, not yet. We were only married in the spring.”

“Oh thank _goodness,_ the rest are enough already!”

He snuck sheepish glances at Safiyah, then Eret, and they could only offer helpless shrugs.

“We were about to get lunch. My treat.” he pulled himself together and offered his arm.

“I should _hope_ so. And look at you, in a coat of… scales? Are you trying to join the mummers? If your _uncle_ could see you now-” 

***

Lunch was taken care of, and he hadn't eaten so well _ever_ in his life. The herbs, the spices… in the right shops they weren't so overwhelming, and the scant portions of meat didn't bother him as much as they should. And his mother-in-law, _Nimat_ he reminded himself, was exactly what he should've expected, regal and proud with the same fine cheekbones, broad nose, and sparkling eyes. She was only a hair taller than Safiyah though, and that left him feeling awkwardly tall and out of place, as if the city didn't do that well enough already. In snatches of conversation, he and Cassian managed to get their little lie straight, even passing off the portrait of his mother as his ‘sister’ Finna. It stung something fierce, but at least Safiyah knew the truth, all the while shooting sympathetic looks around her mother’s back.

Dad made his escape soon after, bringing Foxglove with him. He'd be alright in time… he knew that feeling all too well himself. But Dad would have them, and Pippin, even Gobber. Yeah, Berk would be good for him. Now they had to move on, and the ladies were coming with them. Which was fair, they _were_ going to see Affan and… home might not be the safest place for them right now.

“What did you need from the shop anyway? _Look_ at everything you already have!” Nimat exclaimed.

“These are gifts for a _king_ Mama, and his wife, and their court. We have more than enough coin. Plus, the queen _did_ just have a baby, and we owe them a few wedding gifts.” Cass barely avoided rolling his eyes, “And I still need a few things for myself.”

“Oh, you mean they don't have _rose water_ in your dragon kingdom?” Safiyah teased.

_“No._ And no shea oil either. Or almond oil, or almonds-” Cass pouted.

 _“Nadder.”_ he elbowed Cassian in the ribs.

“Am _not!”_

He cackled and slipped away from the reactive swat. His mo- _Nimat_ stared, still so unsure or even _wary._ Maybe it was a bit selfish, but he wondered, _hoped_ that it was possible to build even a fraction of the relationship with her that Cass had with his own father. And that meant impressing her, somehow. Stealing her only daughter away might not help with that… unless she knew? Might she even _approve?_ Maybe they could try to talk, having her support could make all the difference. 

Datura joined them out of the blue on the trek uphill, prancing along and rolling her head under Safiyah’s hand.

_“Oh.”_ Nimat gasped, clinging to Cassian’s arm, “Oh,  _that_ one is beautiful.” 

“That's Datura.” he offered, **calling** her closer, “She’s… what, a year and half now?”

“Maybe less. _Her_ mother is here too.” Cassian said.

Datura thrummed, weaving between Safiyah and Nimat to beg for scratches. She was just like Foxglove, _utterly_ adoring and overjoyed to be around more **kin.** But they were finally at the shop, and they paused before the door. Yeah, no way ‘Tura was fitting in there.

“I'll wait out here with her, you go on. And, nothing _too_ flashy.” he waved towards the door.

“Yes, I'll get your _approval.”_ Cass rolled his eyes.

Nimat snuck one more glance back before filing in after, with Safiyah closing the door behind them. Datura sighed, stretched, and laid herself out in a neat line against the wall, looking expectantly at the entrance.

“They won't be long, don't you worry.” he patted the Fury’s head, but jerked away when she moved to lick him, _“Ew,_ no! Not after you ate that squidgy _thing_.”

 **Delicious** she purred, licking her chops.

“No, that was _disgusting_ and you should've left that cursed thing where you found it.”

She licked her lips more slowly as a threat, eyes narrowing.

He leaned back against the wall to pass the time, waving at the occasional al-Mariyan, smiling at the children that rushed over to pet Datura… this city really was something else. The door opened again and he half expected Cass to wave him in, but Nimat edged out, still making her polite excuses. 

“Just a little warm my dears, I'll be back shortly.” the door closed tight and she whirled, “You.”

He snapped to attention but froze as she stomped over with steely resolve and seized him by the elbow, hauling him away. Datura didn't even try to help, the traitor. Nimat turned into the narrow alley beside the shop, following it down to the workshop where furnaces and tools made a right racket, enough to spark a headache- Or drown out a voice. What was she doing?

“Ma’am, what-” he tried to protest.

She stopped and turned his captive hand over, peering at-

His ring. Her eyes narrowed and his blood ran cold.

“There _is_ no sister, is there?” she asked, even and icy.

“Of course there is! Who else would-” 

“I'm no _fool_ boy. You're wearing each other’s marks, and the woman on that necklace only looks like _you.”_ she jabbed a finger into his chest, “What have you  _done_ to my child-” 

He pushed her hand away, pulse rising at the indignity of it all.

“I didn't ‘do’ anything, and don't talk about Cass like he’s helpless. We chose each other, but we _have_ to hide it. I’m sure you can understand why.” he drew a steadying breath, “We don't back home, we’re  _free_ there.” 

Nimat deflated, like all the wind had run out of her sails.

“He's not coming back.” she said weakly, as if she already knew.

Eret shook his head, “No. He can be  true to himself up north. We’ll visit, but it's not safe for us here. And… it doesn't sound safe for Safiyah either.” 

“So she's told you.” Nimat looked so suddenly tired.

“Enough, about this- forgive me- _Bastard_ of Balansiyya. She's terrified of him, and Cassian wants to try and talk sense into their father. Try to change his mind.” he sighed, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

“Foolish son of mine…” she tutted, shaking her head, “Reza’s already accepted the offer, he's on his way as of last week. Should be  _here_ any day now.” 

Nimat’s grip returned on his arms, white-knuckled and trembling, her eyes already begging.

_“Take her_ to this dragon kingdom, that bastard is sure to kill her too. Everyone but Reza knows it. _Please_ , I can't send her away with that man-” 

His hands closed over her shoulders and Nimat stilled, tears swimming in her eyes.

“We were already planning on doing _exactly_ that, if the worst were to happen. She's been getting ready, but we can only bring so much. A few bags, and maybe a small chest.” he swallowed hard, struggling for words, “We'll be here a few more days. She's my sister by marriage, I won't let  _anything_ happen and neither will the dragons.” 

Nimat’s gaze turned more tender, even grateful, and she patted his arm.

“Let's get back, before they look for us. It _is_ terribly warm in there, I don't know how my son stands it.” 

“Which one? There are _two_ in there.” he finally felt free to tease.

“The _both_ of them! Proper salamanders, always were.” she scoffed.

“Salamanders… We would say ‘Fireworms’ back home. Smallest dragons on Berk, and they invade your house by the chimney if it's too cold outside.” he cracked a smile.

“Oh, that sounds _horrid!”_

“They aren't so bad, Scauldrons are a pain though.” 

They would have to fill Cass and Safiyah in, somewhere private. He didn't believe for a minute that she was told about the Bastard coming, and Reza was a damn snake to do this to his own child. They could skip the convincing at this point, but Cass still wanted his answer and he would _have_ it. But for now, they could lose themselves in sorting through jewelry, all the fine rings, bangles and pendants of delicately whorled metal and enamel. They picked three chains of silver and two of gold, a small pendant with a pearl, and a dainty ring so helpfully picked with Safiyah’s hand to model. It was better to err too large, according to Affan, so that they did. Gobber would know how to fix it if the fit was wrong. He tucked everything away in the deepest pocket of his belt-pouch while coins changed hands, quite a _lot_ of coins wow.

“So-” Cassian declared, skipping out the door, “Would you like to have a flight around town?”

“Wh- _me?”_ Nimat gasped, “Oh no, I couldn't!”

“Mama, you _have_ to try!” Safiyah shook her by the shoulder, “It's incredible!”

He could swear 20 years melted off Nimat’s face the moment she smiled. Datura shot off to fetch Tyrian and Skullcrusher, and they found a good open square to wait for their arrival. He had to help Nimat onto Crush’s back, where she had to sit sidesaddle on account of her dress. But there was still plenty of room, and she could hold on to him just fine. Cassian let Safiyah sit in front this time, and together the dragons rose into the sky. They flew level, gentle and slow for the sake of the ladies, and his mother-in-law had a grip of iron. How very _familiar._ The sea spread wide off the Rumblehorn’s wing, and unease fluttered low in his gut. They should consider taking another look around… but not with their family. And this flight should stay short, they needed to plan. Skullcrusher and Tyrian seemed to agree, turning to glide towards a long, quiet bit of shore beyond the docks.

“My, oh _my-”_ Nimat babbled, dropping off the edge of the saddle.

“Yes, I felt the same after _my_ first flight.” Cass chuckled, ready to catch her.

He caught Safiyah’s eye around Tyrian’s head, nodding slowly towards their mother as he dismounted in turn. They gathered close, and he drew a deep breath.

“Safiyah, your mother is in on the plan-” 

“You  might as well call me Mama too, save your breath.” Nimat sighed, patting his arm.

Cassian blanched, almost _recoiling_ in fear, “Mama, what- it's not-”

“Son, there are worse things to discover about your child. You aren't a grifter or a cheat or _worse_ that I won't even entertain. An extra son-in-law and a scaly granddaughter won't be the death of me and… it _is_ a shock. But I'll get over it.” Mama pressed Cass’s cheeks between her palms, forcing him to listen, “Now, we need to focus on your  _sister._ That bastard was on his way before you even arrived, but I don't think he’ll show himself, just his _rats.”_

“He calls himself _Caligula,_ can you believe it?!” Safiyah seethed, “He named. Himself. _Caligula_. And Father doesn't think there's a problem! The _audacity_ -”

Eret imagined the fury that turned in Cassian’s face was enough to strike a man dead.

“He's done _what?”_ he hissed.

“Reza’s gone and accepted the proposal, she's _betrothed._ You have to take her with you to that kingdom in the north, she won't be _safe_ here. There will be no reasoning with your father. I'll help her pack, and keep Reza distracted.” Mama sighed, patting Cass’s cheek.

“We were already making saddles for the new dragons, we could get that done tonight. We'll just need to borrow Safiyah to get parts in the right place.” he said, “But we are waiting for other ships from the north, to make sure they're doing what they promised.”

“We’ll try to get all the frivolities finished today…” Cass sighed deep, “And we’ll keep you informed. The best way to get Saffy out may be from the roof, if you think you can get your things up there.”

“Oh don't worry, I can.” Safiyah smirked.

“Whatever day we leave, we’ll pick you up at dawn and take you to the boat to get organized, then we’ll set off. We can be _past_ Balansiyya by day’s end.” Cass continued, “It won't be easy, the trip is at least 9 days and we have to camp on the road, but the dragons shelter us.”

“You should bring some blankets.” he added.

_“_ We _are_ in the port. If any ships come in, we’ll know.” Cass’s frown deepened.

That seemed to be settled then. It was a good plan, even if they had to make a lot of assumptions. They didn't know when this ‘Caligula’ would show up, but they had to be prepared for anything.

“Enough of that for now.” Mama said abruptly, “How in the world did all of  _this_ happen?” 

She gestured around at the dragons and himself.

“You barely told me anything, spill!” Safiyah groused, punching Cassian in the arm.

“Ow- Saffy _!”_

“Oh that didn't hurt, you're beefier than the meat market!” 

“Mama, make her stop- OW! _Saffy!”_

***

God, Safiyah _and_ his mother knew, and he had their support _._ It almost felt like a dream as he and Eret told their story in turns, from the very beginning to now. Saffy was enraptured, Mama just looked befuddled for the most part, but he could work with that. Their tale was outlandish for many reasons, so he couldn't _really_ blame her. But she was trying, and that was all the difference. They did have to get back on track though, there were other good things to buy. To the ships they returned, to get the saddle sorted and muster the Reapers. They’d need the chests for wine, spices, all that.

“Will you be safe? Back home.” he asked, fear clawing at his heart.

“He won't _dare_ lay a hand on us.” Safiyah smirked, “And if he tries, he’ll find  _snakes_ in his bed.” 

_“That's_ my girl.” Mama cooed, pinching her cheek.

So, they bid their goodbyes and started the long walk home, their mother insisted she had enough flying for one day. There was far too much for all of them to do to spend all day together… The Reapers picked up their trunks, but he paused, considering them.

“Let's bring _one_ at a time. Once that chest is full, we send them back to switch out.” he said.

“Yeah, good idea. One is really all that's fair to impose on the market.” Eret agreed.

“Oleander, you have the wine chest, you first. Scorpion, Amanita, you’ll go next. Just relax for now, yes?” he scratched the Reaper’s chins.

So back to the market they went, with full pockets and empty trunks, right to the wine merchants. They managed to fit in a dozen bottles each of pomegranate and grape wines, carefully divided with wooden slats, leaving room right in the center for a few hefty sacks of almonds and walnuts. Oleander departed and Scorpion returned, so they moved on for salt and every sort of dried fruit, plus some chickpeas and lentils for variety. When Amanita arrived, it was time for _spices._ They filled and sealed their jars in the bottom layer, and topped the chest off with a whole sack of ginger and as much garlic as they could manage. He wanted to survive the winter damnit. They still had Nightshade’s bags of course, and the Light Furies’... they should organize a little.

“So, we still have plenty of room.” he thought aloud on the trek back down, “I won't turn my nose up at more silk, or leather, maybe a _few_ other things to keep for ourselves.”

“Oh, we forgot herbs!” Eret smacked his forehead.

“We can put those in Datura’s bag, and save Lantana’s for fresh fruit. And the leather, we should wrap that in oilskin so it doesn't dry out. The rolls should fit on top of Shade’s bags.” he hummed, thinking harder, “I still need to look for some oils and creams…”

“It's not even dinnertime, we could get Shade kitted up for another go.”

So, they did, filling the new bags with jars of honey, more silk and thread, several bottles of _carefully_ sealed ink, more paper, more leather, and _finally_ he found shea and almond oil, and rose water. Once they balanced the loads a little, maybe they could fit even more _._ Just light things, more cloth… he paused mid-step as a blaze of amethyst silk caught his eye, at the back of that particular table. It was- No. There was only so selfish he could be, the village needed to come first. Dinner was found, and they returned to the ship at last to organize the great wealth of goods. All the paper went on top of the wine bottles so it wouldn't get crushed, they wrapped the great rolls of leather up in oilskin, then balanced the load of heavy jars more fairly between the two sets of saddlebags. There, much better, and there was room yet to fill. But they could still easily lift the bags and chests themselves, so he didn't feel too bad about the dragons carrying them in turn. It amounted to less than a rider and saddle, and they could easily carry more but… he didn't want to treat them like _donkeys._

“Almost done with your saddle Dad?” Eret asked, glancing up from his work.

“Aye, just help me with the stirrups if you could. Lightning my boy! Come on down here.”

The Wingweaver yawned from up on the cabin roof, then slunk to the deck beside them. The handle-strap was already in place higher on the dragon’s neck, and he arched so they could fasten the seat just above his shoulders. Father climbed onto Lightning’s back, they marked where to stitch the last cloth loops, and it all came off again for that last bit of work.

“We were going to take another look for the fleet.” Cassian said, belting a pack shut, “If you wanted to come with us, we can test the saddle out.”

“Of course lad.” Father smiled, so warmly, “I bet he's a far sight faster than Pippin. But- don't tell ‘er I said that, can't have her gettin’ _more_ jealous.”

“No, we can't.” he chuckled, “But… I want to look east too, for this ‘Caligula’. His men would be in a much smaller ship, more fancy I’d wager.”

“Look for _who?”_ Father sneered.

“My father betrothed my sister to a man everyone with _eyes_ knows is trouble. It's official now, either he or his men will be coming to take her away. So we have to get her out of here.” he snarled, scrubbing his eyes, “But on the same hand I want to be _sure_ the warlords are going with the plan. I’d lead them by the nose if that's what it took to drive the point home.”

“They managed last time.” Eret said, smile falling.

“Yes, they did. But now there will be more of them, and the more reluctant ones too. They _must_ see for themselves.” he hesitated, and resigned himself to resting a hand on Eret’s shoulder, “You don't have to like them, _I_ don't, but we have to be the bigger men.”

Eret shrugged dismissively, turning his focus back to working needle through canvas. Perhaps a crew of salty sailors would appreciate fresh food, fruit… _fruit._ A devilish plan took root, and Father noticed.

“Hoo boy. What’re you cookin’ up son?” Father chuckled.

“So, I mentioned _lemons.”_ he nudged Eret a little, “How would you like to prank a warlord?”

With the bags put away, they made a quick detour to the market and turned west with a sack full of fresh fruit, _just_ in case. Some pomegranates, figs, apricots, plenty of grapes, and _one_ conspicuous lemon. Sure this will spoil the fun of fooling with his husband yet again, but if this improved his mood? It was worth the sacrifice. Eret liked the smell of the rind at least, so he promised to make some fish with a lemon sauce once they got home. And they were so nearly ready to go, just a little more shopping, and once Safiyah was ready… he sighed, long and low. Father was doing well with Lightning at least, and the saddle held firm. So long as they didn't try to fly like _Valka,_ he would be fine. The ocean was clear so far, the usual scattering of ships…

They didn't have to fly much further. A few miles past the western rise of the bay, a familiar hulking ship broke through the glare on the waves. At least they had the decency to strike Drago’s sigil from the sails. Much smaller two-masts flanked each side of it's bow, which was just as well. There was no way the flagship would get anywhere near the port, much less a dock. Skullcrusher hissed his **displeasure** and Tyrian echoed the sentiment as he tried to soothe them. Yes, it was good to be wary, **cautious,** but he reminded them of Ori, and Dunni. The dragons grumbled, but **agreed.** At least there didn't seem to be any new weapons aboard…

“I'll go first!” he shouted.

Eret and Father nodded, but didn't look happy about it. At his urging, Tyrian descended as the ship pulled ever closer. _Perhaps_ they could make it to the bay by nightfall, but it would surely be too dark to try and moor up. They would just be one step closer to getting this over with, he hoped. Men in the rigging shouted as the Nadder dove, right over the bow to land light and spritely at mid-ship where more of the crew scattered. Those that didn't slowed to a standstill at their work as Tyrian strutted down the length of the deck, right to the helm platform and Cassian _relished_ the shock, even awe.

“Knock knock!” he shouted down the shadowed hallway, where footsteps were already fast approaching.

Ragnar stumbled out first and it was strange to see him without all the fur and finery, tattooed arms bare- Cassian bit back a scowl. Those were _Drago’s_ marks he wore so proudly, on both forearms _and_ shoulders. But, those marks were forever, same as Eret’s scar, and Ragnar would _remember_ what he did. The other warlords, even Grimmel followed soon after, unarmed and unarmored and they looked so much more _human_ for it. Plus, all the warm sun had driven that sickly pallor from their faces.

“You're very nearly there! Al-Mariyah is just around that spit up ahead, but I'm afraid it’ll be a few hours to the port. You should be able to dock the smaller ships in the morning, there are eager customers already! Including the _king.”_ he slipped down, and untied the sack from the pommel, “I even brought a sample of what awaits. Is there a table, or barrel?”

He carefully **called** to the dragons above, Eret would kill him if he missed this. Skullcrusher landed first, then made room for Lightning and both ducked low to let their riders down. Eret was at his side by the time someone dragged a small table over and they mounted the stairs to the helm. The woman… Griselda? looked like a cornered cat, but Chaghatai stood firm as more people left the depths of the cabin. Milla, Dunni, Ori _and_ the Windwolf, heavens it stood near eye-to-eye with the boy now, and _he_ had grown half a foot! Cassian was faintly aware of Ragnar chuckling as he wrangled his boy closer, stunned still until Eret nudged him.

“Right.” he awkwardly cleared his throat and set the bundle down to pick it open.

The fruit spilled out and he separated a few bunches of grapes, before taking a pomegranate to split it.

“So, the apricots have one big stone in the center you have to eat around, and the grapes have a few little seeds. They're _terribly_ bitter, spit those out. The figs you can eat whole-”

“I thought you didn't eat the skins?” Eret interrupted.

“That's with _green_ figs, these are black. The skins are thinner- _damn_ this is a stubborn one.” he drew a knife to pare the pomegranate apart, “The juice of _this_ will stain something awful, be careful. And- oh, why is this here?”

He feigned curiosity, plucking the lemon from the pile and cutting it right down the middle, end to end before making a few more crosswise slices. The bright tang of citrus cut through the odors of the ship and sea, drawing keen interest. He put the pile of fruit back with the rest and wiped his knife clean, now it was just a matter of waiting. But Chaghatai took one long look, met his eyes with a faint, sly smile, and shook his head. So he knew? Damn. Well, he could still get two out of three. Ragnar and Griselda went right for the tantalizingly-bright lemons while Ori grabbed a whole chunk of the pomegranate and moved to bite it like an apple.

“Oh, no wait- pull some of the seeds off. Like this.” he prised a bit of skin back to help.

Then the ex-warlords spluttered with varied sounds of disgust, and their faces were _glorious._ Even Chaghatai snickered along with Eret and Father, slapping Ragnar across the back. Milla glowered from the edge of the crowd.

“What was _that?”_ Griselda squawked, throwing the bit of fruit across the deck.

“Oh, was it sour? It _looked_ ripe.” he said innocently, “The juice is good in a drink with ginger and honey, it keeps scurvy at bay. It's just a shame they go bad so quickly…”

“Let me try!” Dunni skipped over, only-just able to reach a slice.

She bit down, her brows shot up, and she squealed in delight. _Well_ then.

“Be careful, that has seeds too.” he laughed, and handed her the rest, “Don't eat the skin either.”

Dunni scampered back to her mother, but he needed to catch up with Ori. Hiccup would want to know how the Windwolf was doing, and it certainly looked better. At his **greeting** , the dragon chirped and slowly sent it's own **hello** back, craning it's neck to look closer.

“Well, you’ve sure grown.” he offered his fingers and the dragon sniffed politely, “Have you named him?”

“His name’s Blue!” Ori said over a mouthful of grapes.

He chuckled, and Eret swatted his shoulder.

“What?”

 _“You_ named a purple dragon ‘purple’, don't be fresh.” Eret scolded.

“Fine.” he rolled his eyes, “But, he should be big enough for a saddle soon. A small seat, raised pommel… might need an extended tail-band to keep everything stable-”

Wait, he was thinking too far ahead. And these sailors didn't have the skills to make a dragon saddle, he… would have to come to Berk for that. But, _shouldn't_ he? To learn how to fly, to see all the dragons there? If Ragnar had once already, what was to stop him from coming by again? What if- what if the children could stay-

He shook his head sharply, and mumbled something about a fly when Eret and Ori asked. He was a fool, Ragnar had sworn not to part from the boy again. Ori wasn't his to spirit away, no matter how much he _longed_ for that sort of bond. They… they should go. The sun was setting properly and they still had to look east, as far as they could. Cassian made their excuses, promised to meet the ships in the morning, and they returned to the air. He was only half-aware of the search, the dragons did most of the work after all. He tried to center himself, focus, put everything with Or- _the boy_ to the back of his mind as they covered miles of ocean and returned, finding nothing. Thank the heavens…

***

Cass was right, the lemon trick was worth the effort, even if they only got Ragnar and Griselda. But those kids… Maybe there was hope, and he could see how badly Cass wanted this to work, for _them._ The boy, that _bastard’s_ boy especially- He shook his head sharply. A father’s crimes weren't his son’s to bear, Cass would never forgive him for being so cruel. At least the kid was willing to learn, to _listen_ to them. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, they needed to call it an early night, get some rest. He’d go tell someone up at the fort about the shipment, and Cass would inform the carpenter as he promised. They could help broker the deals for some of the morning at least, they needed someone speaking Andalusi. But he wanted to make one last run through the market before they started planning the escape, maybe find something nice for his husband… Hopefully Safiyah would be ready, if not tonight then tomorrow. They couldn't push their luck.

The search yielded nothing, as they hoped, so they returned to the boat to settle in for the night. Cass cornered him the second his feet hit the deck and dragged him around the far side of the cabin. He followed anyway, _gods_ Cass looked so tired.

“Hey, what’s-” he whispered, “Cassian, what’s wrong?”

“I- Heavens take me, I'm so _stupid.”_ Cass laughed, weak and bitter as he slumped over the rail, “He’s not some lost little kitten I can take in, why can't I just let it _go-”_

His voice cracked, and Eret’s heart threatened to break in two. He'd almost forgotten the storm, how those two met, no wonder he bonded hard and fast. A child shivering in the cold? That would strike sure as an arrow to the heart for anyone, much less _Cass…_ he only dared squeeze Cassian’s shoulder, drawing a shuddering breath. Was there still _doubt?_ Would this hound Cass for the rest of his days?

“He may not be ours, or yours… but he's bound to be a better man _now_ than he ever would’ve otherwise, because of you. That's not _nothing.”_ he muttered, “And with Safiyah on Berk, who knows?”

Cass nodded once, sniffling faintly.

Morning was dull, a little overcast, but the stiff breeze would get those ships to port in no time. They readied for the day and went their separate ways across the city, after a chaste kiss in the dark shelter of the cabin. At least he wouldn't get lost going to the Alcazaba. But he couldn't fly over the fort, no… telling one of the guards at the gate should work just fine. They still needed to play nice, obey the unspoken rules. Skullcrusher landed well shy of the wall for a nice, slow approach on foot. That felt right. The gates were shut, but guards patrolled above.

“Good morning!” he shouted, and the bewildered men leaned over the parapet to look.

“You must be _invited_ inside foreigner.” the older of the two groused.

“Only passing a message on!” he held up placating hands, “The emir wanted to know about more wood, and  _lots_ will be here shortly! Big ships, can't miss them. We’ll be down there too.” 

The guards muttered to each other, and one jogged off towards the keep.

“We will tell who needs to know.” the guard drawled, waving him off.

Alright, duty done, but… damn, it was too early for the market still. He’d just have to be extra sneaky, like a _shadow._ Tyrian swooped overhead, **calling** eagerly and Skullcrusher bolted to join the Nadder in the air. Up high they could see the trio of ships approaching and it still made his stomach lurch. But Cass believed in this mission, he _had_ to have faith, in his husband most of all. They would probably have to guide those smaller ships in, there was still some room on the other long docks where the water looked deep enough…

The flagship dropped anchor as close as it dared, and well out of the way of local vessels as the two-masts sailed on. The ships were damn tall, but they had managed before and it seems they had the wits to build some small cranes against the rails to get the timber down. With the mooring lines set fast and the gangplank down, the madness would soon start again. But they needed some sort of inventory of cargo, what wood they had in what sizes, and the furs should be set out to view. _Someone_ had to whip these neophytes into shape, warlords be damned.

“You.” he pointed at a crewman rising from the hold, “Anyone have a list of your stock?”

The man froze, and slowly nodded.

“Good. We’ve got folks that will want to buy timber by size. Is it organized?”

Another nod, and more of the crew had stopped to stare.

“You should set out anything smaller than six feet or so, and the furs. Sort those by type, they'll want to see it, judge the quality. Anything else?”

“Some… stuff?”

“Well, let's get things on deck! Move! They won't wait forever!” he waved the crew on.

And they were actually moving, hustling to bring goods up from below. He allowed himself a little satisfaction. Once a captain, always-

“Playing captain?”

He bristled, turning a fraction to glower over his shoulder. Of _course_ this was Ragnar’s ship. The man strolled casually down the deck with a forced smile, and luckily the kids were nowhere in sight. So no need to keep up appearances. 

“Only because _you_ aren't. You want to sell this or not?” he huffed, gesturing around.

“Eh, it'll go just fine. It did before.” Ragnar shrugged.

“Being _professional_ is half the work. They want to see things organized, if you can't even manage a storefront how can they trust the quality of what you're selling?” he scowled, “This'll take _effort,_ you can't coast by on the goodwill of others forever.”

“These _goons_ don't know port from starboard-” Ragnar groused, until Eret jabbed a finger in his chest.

“Then _lead_ them. Are you a captain or not? We won't be around to pick up your mess at every port and if _you_ can't get your act together, I don't want to waste any more of my time.”

He leaned closer, lips curling to a snarl as Ragnar was forced back a step.

 _“We_ have a sister to get the hell out of here, before the _murderer_ her sorry excuse for a father betrothed her to comes knocking. We don't _need_ any more distractions, but Cass believes this can work and I believe in _him._ So get these ‘goons’ moving, the crowds are already on their way.”

He left Ragnar there to stew, _someone_ had to take charge and the orders came without a thought.

“Line the pelts up along the rail towards the bow, everything else to the stern! Don't block in the cranes, leave walkways clear-”

And so the masses arrived, even more energetic once the emir’s men came calling. They laid claim to all the biggest beams and planks, hauling it away as fast as the crew could unload it and the emir paid _handsomely._ In a fair mix of coins too, so he could make change for the lesser purchases as they came. That young lad from the carpenter’s shop came by, and he was glad for the smaller lengths of lumber and the pretty knotted pieces the builders left behind. Even the planks laced with _rot_ he knew a use for. Well, if he insisted, coin was coin. The frenzy went on and on, at his pier as well as Cassian’s by the looks of it, well past lunchtime. He was starving, but the rest of the crew had the luxury of taking breaks in shifts. Just a little more, there wasn’t much left…

An _hour_ later it was done, thank Odin. There must be hundreds, _thousands_ of dinar in those money chests, and the sight of all that gold and silver put the crew in better spirits. There, point made. He and Crush could get out of here-

“Eh, before you go…” Ragnar piped up, sidling closer.

He rolled his eyes, groaning under his breath, _“What?”_

“You've… made your point.” the man mumbled, “This trouble your sister is in. What do you need?”

How _dare_ he- Eret forced himself to stop, and breathe. Ragnar had one thing they didn't: numbers. _Lots_ of men that could be all over the harbor and city while they finished their business.

“All we need are eyes on the water, and ears around town. We’re expecting a small ship, maybe more than one, and they should be fancy-looking. And, there's the name ‘Caligula’. No one here speaks Norse, so be prepared for that.” he gestured over to the next pier, “If you hear or see anything, signal our boat. That's more than enough.”

Ragnar nodded slowly, and seemed to be thinking. Let him do that, he was fit to _eat_ the next man to come between him and food. Tyrian shot up from the far pier towards their ship, and he followed soon after. It was just a matter of getting Crush up from his nap…

“So, everything good on that side?” he asked, once they were in the calm of the cabin.

“Yes, they've almost sold out. Just a few gnarly planks left.” Cass sighed, leaning harder against him, “Those other two are proper generals, I only had to worry about changing coins. But I'm _starving.”_

“Yeah, me too.” he chuckled, rocking them both side to side, “So, shall we go get lunch? We can stock up on those herbs… oh, should we do that thing with the salt?”

 _“Please._ And, yes, good idea. Salt doesn't spoil, so more won't hurt.”

They filled their pockets with coins once more and grabbed the Furies’ packs, plus several of the small linen bags to keep the herbs separate. The walk to the market was familiar now and he wanted to take Cassian’s hand so _badly,_ it took a mighty effort not to do so. They would be out of here soon, just a little longer, a little more trading… There was still plenty of room for more cloth, and he was getting _very_ interested in all this silk. How it would shine and _drape_ against his husband’s umber skin. Maybe a bright blue, dark red, or-

Oh. Oh no, _that_ was perfect.

***

A few dirham filled the whole _pack_ with herbs, plus a few long rolls of salt stuffed down the center. They couldn't risk anything going moldy, not after all this effort. But there was a new stall in the market, selling cords and ribbons of all sizes. Oh, that was _perfect._ They would need so many of these, for laces and decorations.

“Eret, here with the bags-” he looked up, but his husband was nowhere to be seen.

Weird. He must've stopped at another stand. He’d start worrying in a few minutes, for now he could sort through this and try to find cords that matched the colors they already had. Greens and blues, red and black and white… and just a felus or two for lengths of near 10 feet? Why yes, he _would_ take a few dozen. He had a few stacks of cord and ribbon neatly coiled when Eret finally returned, adjusting his vest and belt strangely.

 _“There_ you are. Come, help me pick these out.” he rolled his eyes.

“Sorry, got sidetracked.” Eret nudged him aside for more room.

“Since when did you become a magpie?” he teased, “Now, these short ribbons should work for a lady’s hair, right? I'm sure we could make plenty from the scraps of all that we’ve bought, but I’d like to have a little something, for the younger girls.”

“No, that's a good idea. They'll go _crazy_ for it.”

Another bag filled, and they were on their way. Perhaps they should get some more white silk and cotton…

“So, any last requests? We could probably squeeze in a few more bottles of wine.” he asked.

 _“Absolutely_ more wine. A dozen bottles would _not_ be enough if we have to share-”

“There's _wine?”_ a familiar voice called, too close and too loud.

They stopped mid-step, turning slowly to glare at Ragnar. Griselda, Grimmel and Chaghatai lingered behind him, thoroughly distracted, but Milla and the kids stuck close. The crowd was staring of course, in politely masked disapproval.

“Ragnar, mind your voice.” he huffed, “But yes, there's wine. This is all the silk, cotton and food is further down, and leather, paper, tools…”

He waved in that direction, _hoping_ they would take the hint. They didn't.

“There's so much _more_ of it! And so many more colors!” Ragnar exclaimed, at least lowering his volume, “It's a good thing we cleared up so much space, _eh_ Griselda?”

“I _suppose.”_ she forced a frown, but her interest was still plain to see.

Even Chaghatai looked impressed, “The variety is… adequate.”

“And the market is open to you. You can go _wherever_ you like.” he said pointedly.

He was ignored, again, while Ori and Blue edged around their parents rushing _right_ to him. No, no no please don't- 

“What’s that _smell?”_ boy and dragon both turned their noses to the breeze, “It's sweet!”

“Probably honey cakes, they make them around the corner.” he gestured to the road-

And Ori grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off down the street with the Windwolf herding them along for good measure.

“Ori! Wait, you can't just run off-” he yelped, stumbling on a cobble before hauling the boy to a stop, _“Relax,_ it's not going anywhere!”

“Sorry…” Ori mumbled, scuffing his feet, “I'm just sick of _boat food.”_

Eret slowed from his pursuit, huffing a laugh, “Yeah, that's fair. C’mon, this place is _great.”_

“Just _one_ treat, you're not spoiling dinner.” he smacked Eret’s arm, “That goes for you too, I'll not have your mother out for my blood.”

Ori and Blue whined, but from the corner of his eye, he spotted Ragnar frozen stiff a few feet away, eyes wide and hand half-raised. When he looked more closely, he dared think the man was a step away from heartbreak. Ah. It _did_ look like his son was pulling away, didn’t it? He sighed and caught Ragnar’s helpless stare, jerking his head in a silent invitation to join them. As much as all this pained him, it must be even worse for a _real_ father. And that thought stuck bitter in his throat.

They followed the hiss of fry-oil and sweet perfume of crisping dough and honey to an open stall, where a few felus got them a palm-leaf boat loaded with syrupy dumplings, still steaming. He juggled the container, wincing from the heat as they moved on.

“Careful, they're still-” he started.

Eret snatched one off the top anyway, popped it in his mouth, and instantly flinched from the sear on his tongue.

“Hot.” he shook his head, _“Seriously?_ They're _steaming.”_

“I was ‘ungry!” Eret squawked.

“We _just_ ate!”

“They're _good_ shu’ up!”

Ori, and even Blue laughed, and the sound was like music that twisted the knife even deeper. The greater powers of the world were just out to torment him, weren't they?

“Let's just let them cool a moment.” he muttered.

They shouldn't stray far, but Ori was wandering and Cassian didn't have the heart to stop him. They wound down the street, around the curve of the hill where the road widened to a proper square, with a nice wall overlooking the bay. So, there they sat, passing the dumplings back and forth, though they turned to ash in his mouth. If he squinted, Ori could almost be mistaken for Eret’s son. That dark hair and broad nose like his mother, hints of a strong jaw… but not his eyes. No, those were the same grey-green as his _real_ father’s and that's where the illusion shattered. Blown away, like the wisps of a dream. Ragnar lingered, not really close enough to engage and his face creased deeply in thought and all the while, Ori babbled with his mouth full of honeyed-cake. How long they had sailed, how _boring_ Grimmel was, and of course all about Blue. He couldn't wait for the dragon to be big and strong, so he could make a saddle-

“And then we can fly around and be heroes like you!” he declared, absolutely _beaming_.

That stole the breath from his lungs, and he stared in naked shock. He- he _couldn't_ no, no it _wasn't fair-_

He bolted, weaving through the crowd to duck into the nearest alley as tears burned, his throat closed, his heart threatened to _strangle_ him from the inside. He _ran_ by second nature until he knew he was alone and there, slumped against the nearest wall, shaking as he tried to smother the sobs that wracked him to the soul. Why, _why_ did this _keep happening?_ Why couldn't this just _die_ it would never happen-

 _Please, make it stop, I- I need you._ **_I need you._ **

***

“Cass!” Eret shot to his feet to follow, but… forced himself to stop.

He couldn't make even more of a scene, no matter how much it hurt. And it _hurt_ sure as a knife to the heart, the pain that twisted Cassian’s face. To add to the confusion Ragnar stumbled away, bent almost double. That he could care less about, but Ori-

“Dad!” the boy cried, scrambling down from the wall.

“Wait, wait…” he caught Ori by the shoulder, and the boy wilted.

“Did I do something wrong?” Ori asked helplessly, breath already hitching.

Damnit, he couldn't-

Couldn't he? Just… do what comes naturally. Don't think about it. He drew a deep breath and steered Ori back to the wall as Blue whined his **concern,** nuzzling his **kin.**

“It's not your fault.” he said slowly, “I don't know what’s wrong with your dad, but Cass… He- _we_ won't ever have kids of our own. I think he's gotten a bit attached. To you. And it's just a reminder of what _can't_ happen.”

He itched idly at his scar, just under his collar, and Ori was silent for a time.

“But why me?” he finally asked.

Eret frowned, thinking hard.

“So, you found Blue. He was alone, and scared, and you wanted to protect him.” he said, and Ori nodded, “Sometimes, that instinct is strong. Almost _too_ strong, and when there's nowhere to _focus_ that feeling, when you finally can… you bond hard. That's why Foxglove is still with us, after Cass found her the same way you found Blue. Then he found _you,_ alone and scared in a storm. He has this _drive_ and- I can't _do_ anything, I can't take that pain for him-”

He choked, slapping a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. How could he be so _useless?_ As his eyes closed tight, thin arms wrapped around his bicep, hugging awkwardly. Even the Windwolf stretched to lay it's head over his lap, crooning **sympathy.**

“Thank you.” he managed to rasp, “But Cass needs me, and your dad needs you. Let's- let's get looking.”

Ori nodded and Blue shot ahead with his nose to the ground, weaving until he caught the scent. Eret grabbed their bags and nudged Ori along, keeping the boy close as they followed. Not that they had to go far. He heard the broken sobs before he ever saw the man, so he let Ori go on ahead. That wasn't something he wanted to get tangled in. Now, where was Cassian-

His feet moved all on their own, pulled by something, like a beacon, unnameable and overwhelming. The back alleys were shockingly quiet, but he didn't really take any of it in as he followed that **call.** That's- that's what it was, wasn't it? Cass was **calling** him and it pulled through his ribs, hooked into his heart and he _ran,_ deeper into the crags of the city. He found his husband in a crumpled heap against a wall, half-hidden by barrels and old crates, near catatonic. He dropped the bags and fell to his knees, pulling Cass to his chest then let the floodgates open. There was _nothing_ between them, even their bodies were as one, as was their **pain.** It burned like acid, but spread out over two souls… it dimmed, dulled around the edges, left holes that he could push **love** through. It cooled the ache, soothed like a balm, it would be so easy to get lost in this… but they couldn't risk it. They couldn't get _caught._

“Cass…” he heard through ears that weren't his own, “Let's get back to the ship.”

He had to haul Cassian out with one arm over his shoulders, and somehow Skullcrusher was already waiting on the street. It was awkward, boosting Cass up and holding the packs, but he managed and they were back on deck but not soon _enough._ Thank Odin, Dad was there, ready and waiting. He took the bags and helped Cass down, but steered them towards the captain’s cabin. 

“Here, lay him down.” Dad dropped the bags and helped as he could, “Son, what _happened?”_

“Ragnar’s boy, the kid _idolizes_ him. It was just too much, another reminder that-”

He couldn't say it, but he didn't have to. Dad wrapped his arms around them both and Cass sniffed weakly, leaning in harder.

“I _hate_ this.” his husband croaked, “Why does it have to _hurt?_ What could merit this, this _torture._ What _can't be_ dangled on a damn string, just out of reach but still close enough to dream-”

Cass sobbed, low and broken and _defeated._ Dad gave him the room, and scooping his husband close was second nature. That wall was gone again and the pain was as much his own, threatening to cave his chest in. **_Please_ ** **Cass, I'm here. Let me take it for you, you aren't alone-**

 **_It hurts._ ** **Please, make it stop,** **_make it stop-_ **

**I can take it. Let it go, you have to let it** **_go_ ** **Cass. Don't let it strangle you.**

**_It hurts._ **

**Breathe, breathe… Let it go.**

The dam broke and he nearly buckled under the onslaught of guilt and envy and anger then _more_ guilt and back to jealousy, so much bitter _hurt-_ but never regret. No, never regret, or resentment. Just, hurt, old and new, dredged up in the flow until there was almost nothing left. Those dregs were the heaviest, but also so much more, they were the remnants of _dreams._ The last, the most precious of them, it sank in like a knife to the heart. A _child,_ with warm umber skin just a little lighter than his husband's, loose black curls and honey-gold eyes, _his_ eyes, smiling, laughing, impossible and so damn beautiful. A _daughter_ , they named her Einna-

When there was nothing left to give, Cass sagged bonelessly over his shoulder, trembling, sobbing, hollowed out and empty. So, he turned the tide back. Every memory from that night in the Shetlands onward flowed, a slow trickle then a rush _._ The initial pull, the regret as Cassian rowed away, the longing, even _desire,_ the dizzying joy of seeing him again and the unwavering trust as he fell asleep on Cassian’s shoulder, skimming over the clouds. There was the music, _their_ song and the flush of feelings he couldn't name every time he heard it, with words and without, weeks of _wanting_ to be closer, to kiss him, to hold him- Until they finally did and he was so _whole,_ like he had found the piece he was missing. The raids, the heart-clenching fear and heartbreak after came and went, the _passion_ in the springs and peace after… On and on he went, lingering where the **love** was greatest. All the mornings he woke first and just stayed in bed to _look_ at Cass, the touches, kisses, the _warmth_ of their shared heat under mounds of blankets. The wedding shone like a star, he was faintly aware of tears washing down his cheeks in time with the memory of the _moment_ he laid eyes on his almost-husband. His heart still fluttered for Cass all in white, shining with dragon scales, breathless from the run downhill, he had never felt more _alive._ That whole day was a blur of love, bliss, gratitude, _joy-_

“Cass.” he rasped in his own voice, “What did you tell me about keeping everything to myself? This’s been eating you _alive,_ all this time. You can lean on me, _always._ Just because I wasn't keen on kids doesn't mean I won't help, you're my _husband_ and I made that promise. _Please_ Cass.” 

Cassian drew a shuddering breath, like he was just remembering how and nodded once against his neck. With a touch, he eased back and Eret’s heart twisted. Cass looked a _wreck,_ his face tearstained and eyes bloodshot, but he gently wiped those cheeks dry before ducking in for a kiss.

“You rest a while, I'll get everything sorted. Here, let's get this off…” he murmured, tugging the buckle of his belt.

They got that, his vest then boots off, but Eret still had to coax him to lie down, kissing his cheeks and brow more than a few times. Within minutes of his head hitting the pillow, Cass was asleep. He needed it… but Eret still sat on the edge of the bed, one limp hand clasped tight between his own. _Damnit_ Cass.

“He tries too hard to be strong. He's terrified of being _selfish.”_ he thought aloud, “Wanting to make a kid’s life better isn't selfish, to hell with the rest. The boy _adores_ him.”

Dad sighed from his chair, scrubbing his face for a time.

“But imagine you're gone for years. Your son is so nearly a man when you get back and suddenly someone that _loathes_ you is his hero.” Dad’s face creased deep with old hurt, “Every father worth his salt hopes to be his son’s hero, and to fail that…”

“It's like watching his son get stolen away by someone better.” he finished.

His vest bunched awkwardly as he bent to leave his husband with another kiss, right over a scar. He should hide this silk away, and… go find Ori. And Ragnar.

Wait. How had they _done_ that? That- that was all _dragonspeak,_ they had never been able to before. Was it because Cassian was so desperate? His defenses cracked, walls down, enough to let _him_ in. But would it last, or fade? Or would that channel stay open, like it did with the dragons? They, they could figure out later. There were more important things going on.

“I'll get this put away.” he mumbled, “And check on Safiyah. If she's ready, we need to leave tomorrow at dawn. If not, the day after. I'll get some dinner too. Could you-”

“Yeah, I’ve got ‘im. Just about packed myself.” Dad said quietly, “Go on ahead.”

“Thanks Dad.”

The bags went down in the crew cabin with the rest of their gear, and that special bolt of silk he hid away. The flock was awake, and their **concern** settled like a fog over the ship as he returned to the deck. There, they swarmed him, buzzing with **worry** and **sympathy** and **fear**. He tried to call for calm, but there were just too many voices, it had _never_ been this bad. Foxglove almost knocked him flat, keening **Father hurts-**

“Wait, wait hold on-” he grunted, shaking his head, “He's resting, he just needs some space. Tana, we need to go check on Safiyah. Remember where the house is?”

The Light Fury thrummed a **confirmation,** and he saw- he **saw** the home from the air. He staggered, going cross-eyed for a moment when the vision pulled out of his head. But he _saw_ it, that was Cassian’s thing, wasn’t it? Did- did their dragonspeak _blend_ somehow? Later, they’d have to investigate later, daylight was burning.

“Let's go check. We have to be careful, and quiet.” he patted the Fury’s neck.

She rumbled, well aware of their plan for escape. The rest of the flock gathered close to the cabin door to wait, sighing a reluctant **goodbye** as he leapt over Lantana’s shoulders. It was different somehow, the flying. He was so much more in _tune_ with Lantana, aware of every twitch of her tail and flutter though her auricles. They moved in perfect sync around the fringes of the city, and her eagle-eyes picked out the workshop against the hill. They should land behind it, the roof would betray them. But… which room was Safiyah’s? There was one window on the back wall, he could start there.

Lantana coasted in for a soundless landing, letting him slink closer, up to the wall where he paused beside the window. There were sounds inside, movement and muttering too quiet to hear. Too quiet for _him._ Tana heard Safiyah’s voice just fine, and smelled her too.

 _“Safiyah.”_ he whispered through the shutters, _“ It's Eret, just checking.” _

Something inside fell, followed by curses Cass _definitely_ didn't teach him before one of the shutters inched open and his sister peeked out.

“What are you _doing_ here?” she hissed, “Where’s Cassy?”

“He's resting, long story.” he said, quick and quiet, “How’s the packing? Think you can leave tomorrow?”

She bit her lip, shaking her head, “It's hard to get everything put away, Father keeps _butting in._ All I have packed are my warm clothes- oh, here!”

She slipped away and returned, easing a stuffed pack out the window.

“I should be able to get one more bag and my trunk filled by tomorrow night, same plan.” she said, “Anyone spot the Bastard?”

“No, but now we have a _hundred_ eyes on the bay. Those traders are in and they owe us _big_ time. We won't let them catch us with our pants down-”

Safiyah snorted, desperately trying to muffle her giggles. Well, at least _someone_ though he was funny. Lantana chuffed a sweet ripple of **adoration,** craning around him to nuzzle Safiyah’s cheek. She jumped, but quickly pulled the Fury closer with her cheeks squished between her palms, grinning so brightly. **Kin** Lantana purred, **kin…** They couldn't linger.

“Do you need anything else? From the market.” he asked, shouldering the pack.

She shook her head, “No. I'll keep working, you should go before anyone gets curious.”

“Yeah.” he hesitated just a moment, before covering Safiyah’s hand where it braced on the sill, “Stay safe. We aren't going _anywhere_ without you, no matter what happens.”

She nodded, and they made their escape back to the boat first to drop off the bag, then skipped right back to the market. Lantana could search for them from above- Wait. _Stupid,_ he could just look for Blue. The dragon’s spark was just about where he had left them, down past all the food. He drew a deep breath to steel himself, then took that first step. As much as he hated the man, now as then, Ragnar… he loved his boy. That much at least deserved compassion.

Those three were indeed right where he left them, in a pile against the wall and Ragnar was somehow even _less_ a warlord than he remembered. Oh, he knew Ragnar had been there, he heard _that_ laugh with the rest over his own screams. For now, he had to put that aside. This was for the kid, not him, and Ori looked absolutely miserable. Even the Windwolf was listless and keening.

“Hey bud…” he said softly, and Ori sniffled, “It's about dinnertime. And… you shouldn't be back here in the dark. C’mon, let's get you up.”

He patted the boy’s back, helping him to his feet before offering a hand to Ragnar in turn. That seemed to shock the man so badly it took a few long moments for him to move, and lurch upright with the help. _Damn_ he was big, how the hell did Cass knock him flat? Something to joke about later, for now he needed to be the bigger man. Metaphorically. Lantana hooted from out on the street, trying to wedge herself into the alley- he wasn't quite sure why, but she wanted to see the _new_ dragon-kin, she could sense them. Ori and Blue brightened, perfect.

“Why don't you go say hi? She's nice.” he gave the boy a nudge.

Once they were out of earshot, he sighed and turned back to Ragnar.

“We aren't out to steal your son away, Cass just wants to see him happy. That's who he _is.”_ he said, close and quiet, “Cass saved his life and carried him home on a dragon, of _course_ a kid is gonna think that's amazing. But he won't forget who _you_ are. He’ll look back one day and see everything you've accomplished, so build something he can be _proud_ of. It's not too late.”

Ragnar swallowed hard and fell into himself, almost crumpling until Ori laughed, flailing away from Lantana’s dragon-kisses. Oh, _gross._

“Tana! Come on, get your _tuna-breath_ off him.” he huffed, “On _that_ note, there is a bathhouse by the docks, hot water and everything. You can do your laundry there too. Uh, no offense, just saying. Felt damn good after a week on the road. Now, I'm starving-”

“Dad, come on! You said we could try those bread things this time!” Ori rushed back to haul Ragnar along by the hand.

But that only lasted a few steps before the man tugged his son back and swept him up into a smothering hug, still sniffling into his hair.

 _“I'm so sorry.”_ he croaked, “I left you for so long, for _nothing._ Never again, I'm _never_ leaving you again I swear it-”

“Dad!” Ori wheezed, “I told you it's okay! Your beard’s _itchy-”_

Blue whined his **hunger,** butting into Ori’s back until Ragnar dropped him, quickly scrubbing his face.

“Right, food…” he muttered, voice raw, “What’s for the beastie…”

“Tana can take him out, there's plenty to hunt in the bay. And we need to find your wife before she kills us.” Eret sighed, raking fingers through his hair, _“And_ make sure the rest aren't causing trouble.”

“Eh, she’ll probably go for _you_ first, you best get going.” Ragnar tried to joke, but didn't have the spark for it.

“Not if I use _you_ as a shield.” he snorted. A tempting thought, that.

He stumbled back to the ship, dog-tired but with dinner in hand, as many of Cassian’s favorites as he could find. He might just be awake… In the cabin, Dad still kept watch from the chair, almost nodding off before the scent of _food_ filled the room. He unloaded everything on the desk, righting a packet of almonds before rushing right to the bed and thank the _gods_ Cass looked miles better, even asleep. The ruddy swelling had gone from his eyes at least.

“Hasn't moved a muscle…” Dad sighed, “He needed a good rest. But, what was all that?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was all dragonspeak mind tricks?” he said.

“At this point, you could say the sky was _green_ and I’d take your word for it.” Dad chuckled half-heartedly, “But, no wonder it tuckered him out. And- what of Safiyah?”

He frowned, “She’s not ready, hopefully will be by tomorrow night. I did get one of her bags though.”

“Damn… We’ll have to be careful-”

Cassian groaned, long and low as he shifted and levered upright, grinding a knuckle into one eye.

 _“Cass.”_ forget the food, this came first.

He dropped to his knees, just barely brushing his fingertips over his husband’s cheek, neck, shoulders… _Gods_ he was okay, **Cass you're okay-**

Wait, he meant to say that out loud.

Cassian froze solid, a single, shocked puff of breath escaping as _his_ voice answered.

**How is this possible? I- I thought it was a dream-**

“I don't know, and I don't care. Are _you_ okay?” he asked properly.

“I-” Cass hesitated, “Not good but… better. We have to check on-”

“Already done. Safiyah isn't ready yet, I have one of her bags. And, I straightened Ragnar out.”

Cass sagged into his hands, and after a long moment his voice came again. **I need you.**

 **I'm** **_here_ ** **Cass-**

 **I** **_need_ ** **you,** he pressed, and the memory of that beach followed, **_alone._ **

Eret nodded. They could bring something to eat, and the sun was still up so the sand would be plenty warm...

“I'll grab the blanket, you wake up a little.” he murmured, craning to kiss Cass’s brow.

The dragons still waited around the deck, pressing with their **concern** once the door opened **,** but even out here he could feel Cassian’s reply of **here, fine, awake.** He slipped back into the crew quarters to ditch his vest, belt and boots then grab the spare blanket, but when he emerged Cass had escaped. The dragons milled around him, thrilling their **sympathy** and **love** , Foxglove loudest of all, and they parted to let him through.

“I'll get some of the food, if you could take this.” he hesitated, “Are… you alright to fly?”

“I can manage a few minutes.” Cass said.

He nodded and ducked back into the cabin where Dad picked at a flatbread, looking lost.

“He just needs a little quiet, we’ll be back.” he said, “He’ll be okay.”

Dad nodded, frown deepening, “Just wish I could do more to help…”

“You've already done more than you know.” he sighed, “But this is something… just for us. For now.”

His father nodded slowly, and rose for a brief embrace.

The cove was just as they left it, and the sand was still baked-warm between their toes. With the blanket spread, they lounged back to eat in comfortable silence and then… they just _held_ each other. Questions could wait, what mattered was Cass _hurting._ The pain still lingered like a bruise around his heart, so Eret curled all the tighter around him, melding together over every inch.

“Cass…” he murmured, rubbing slow circles between his shoulders, “You're allowed to _want_ things, wanting to be a father isn't _selfish._ It's what you do about it that matters, and you only want the best for- for the kid.”

“Nothing in the world would make them _ours._ It's all the little things that haunt and hound me.” Cassian swallowed hard, struggling not to cry, “Losing a first tooth, first steps, first _words_ , getting woken up at the crack of dawn the day we promised to let them fly on their own. We’ll only ever be on the sidelines, outsiders looking in. There will always be _real_ parents to go home to.”

That yawning chasm opened through his core, pure **loss** and **want** and **heartbreak** and it threatened to pull him under again. No, no not _again._ He drew Cass in tighter, squeezing that crack closed outside and in, shuddering at that **pain** bled into him in turn.

“Cass, look at me.” he begged, only breathing when those garnet eyes met his, “I _wish_ I could make it happen somehow, but I can't. I'm no god, I can't make a child from nothing. But if I could, I would in a heartbeat. To _hell_ with my stupid reservations, you deserve to be happy-”

Cass knocked him flat and he let it happen, arms open to pull his husband close, welcoming the kiss that descended. He was desperate for that **bond** again, so Eret threw that door open and there was only **them.** One, continuous **them,** hearts in perfect sync as that crack mended just a little, around the edges. The **pain** settled under a blanket of memories, rolling back and forth in tides, from the Shetlands onward and sometimes snatches of life before. **I love you** flowed like wine between each searing kiss, heady and sweet until they were _drunk_ on it. Just one more day…


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Cassian imagined the headache that reamed between his eyes was what a hangover felt like, and swore to _never_ drink enough to find out. Trying and failing to roll out of the hammock didn't help matters any, and the floor was not soft. It was later than he would have liked, this was their _last_ day and they couldn't waste it. He tried, really tried, to put work at the front of his foggy, aching mind. There were packs to settle, they had to stock up on fruit… Actually, he should put that in the wine chest so it didn't get crushed. All this _planning,_ what a mess. At least they would know better for next time. He scraped himself off the floor and worked at organizing while Eret slept on, his husband had damn well earned it after putting him back together. And the shame weighed on his shoulders like chains. He was supposed to be _stronger_ than that, but one little moment of adoration was enough to shatter his resolve like so much glass. He… hadn’t really let himself _mourn_ the lost chance, had he? Just, shoved it aside to deal with later because he couldn't be _selfish,_ he couldn't leave others, especially Eret feeling guilty. Yesterday was just the last straw to break the camel’s back. How could he be so _stupid-_

Warm hands kneaded into his tense shoulders, up to his neck, and he sighed.

“I could hear you thinking.” Eret murmured, sitting slowly to fold over his back, “You've never done wrong by Astrid, or Hiccup, me or anyone else. _Feelings_ aren't anything to be ashamed of.”

He nodded slowly, “I think… I just needed to hear someone say it. I _needed_ you, but on the same hand I couldn't leave you feeling at fault somehow.”

“I'm not good at _this…”_ Eret sighed, and dropped a kiss on his neck, “Not as good as you. But with this- this dragon-voice-bond _thing,_ I can help. You don't have to carry it all alone.”

He slumped back against Eret’s chest, reeling as it all sank in. They had been thought-speaking, sharing memories and pain effortlessly, ever since they met in that alley.

“How is this possible?” he said, barely above a whisper.

“I don't know.” Eret squeezed him tighter, “And I don't care. I'm not about to question a gift like this. But it's changed us, I could see through Tana’s eyes, same as you.”

Didn't Eret say he could see dragons without sight..? He closed his eyes tight and **looked,** and a lone spark lounged above them. _Skullcrusher._ The dragon snapped to attention, yawned, and rumbled about **food,** and the little **stranger.** So the flock was off for breakfast then.

“The sparks, I can see that too.” he twisted in Eret’s arms, almost giddily, “The things we could accomplish, finding dragons from afar- and we shared _memories.”_

“Yeah…” his husband’s face fell, so tender and then concerned, “But, will you be okay?”

“I-” no, no more lies, “In time. I just, need some time. And you.”

A few moments of quiet couldn't hurt… He tucked against Eret’s chest, ear over his heart to _feel_ that pulse under him, **around** him, grounding and healing. Great warm arms- his? Eret’s? wrapped around them and squeezed so _tight._ He sighed deeply, content and a little less wrung-out and Eret soon chuckled, **mischief** tickling around his ears.

“I _do_ recall you promised to tell me about those ‘secret places’ and all those things you saw.” Eret smirked.

“I suppose I _could.”_ he leaned up to whisper low in his ear, “You won't be leaving our bed for at _least_ a day once we get home, probably longer. I can't stand not touching you.”

Eret shuddered with **want,** but he could feel a thought take root and bloom into something like sheepish **horror.**

“Uh- where are we gonna put Safiyah? There’s only one spare house and that’s _Dad’s.”_

_“Damnit-”_

Something else occurred to him, as he picked over pomegranates and lemons. How would they _display_ all they had brought home? The village would surely be curious. If they could lay it out…

“In the Great Hall, of course!” he said under his breath.

Eret hummed, looking up from the peaches and apricots. Tempting though it was, those wouldn't last long. Maybe they could get a few for snacks on the road. 

“You _know_ everyone will want to see what we have. If we take the dragons straight to the Hall, we can spread everything out and put all the gifts on the head table. We’ll just have to lock everyone out, to keep the surprise-”

In a rush of footsteps, a body collided with his back and knocked him right to the ground. _Instinct_ took over mid-fall and he twisted, with just enough leverage to throw the figure down, pin it there, draw a knife- But then the world froze when he could see properly.

 _“Affan?!”_ he wheezed, gasping for breath, “Are you  _mad?_ You can't just tackle people!” 

He quickly sheathed his blade and gave his brother an admonishing, half-hearted thump on the chest before hauling him back up.

“Sorry… Just got carried away.” Affan sheepishly dusted himself off, “But, the guild is passing me  _early_ so Crispino can retire! The silver is all done, so long as I don't ruin the stones it'll be official! That's the deal they made anyway, since those'll take so long to cut…” 

“Affan, that's _amazing!”_ he laughed and smacked his brother on the shoulder. Perhaps a little too hard.

“They were already confident I’d pass, but seeing the stones I would use convinced the last of them.” Affan chuckled, rubbing his arm, “We were going to celebrate, music, food, the works… Ahmed is going to be there, and Crispino and the rest of the smiths...”

He sensed the invitation, “Of course we’ll drop by! We’re trying to get settled to leave in the morning, but-”

Affan took him by the arm and tugged him away from the stand, to a quiet corner and with a **thought** Eret followed.

“You're still getting Safiyah out?” his brother asked, voice dropping to a whisper.

“Mama told you?” he guessed, and Affan nodded, “Yes, at dawn. We’ll be beyond Balansiyyah before the day is done, and probably as far as Monpellier the day after.”

“Be _careful_ Cass, Father is on a warpath. He's… not _himself_ anymore.” Affan sighed.

“We’ve got dragons, what can he do?” he snorted, “There’s no sign of the Bastard yet either.”

“That is true… Still, watch your back. And keep her _safe_ wherever it is you're going.” Affan seized him by the shoulders, shaking him,  _“Swear_ to me you'll keep her safe.” 

“On my _life_ Affan. There's nowhere in the world safer for her than Berk. Maybe _warmer,_ but we’ve got dragons by the hundred.” he chuckled, patting his brother’s arms, “And I wouldn't be surprised if she’s swarmed with dragons wanting her for a rider the  _second_ we land.” 

“They _do_ that?” Affan squinted, almost disbelieving.

“Sometimes yes! That’s how Tyrian chose me, the very day I arrived.” he sighed, “We’ve got a plan, we’ll manage. And we’re not so far that we can't come back. We  _will_ come back Affan, she’s not gone forever.” 

Affan nodded once, then twice, breathing deep and sighing low.

“So, my chains are _really_ going to a king?” he cracked a small, bashful smile.

“Well, ‘king’ may not be technically correct, but he is the leader of Berk and controls untold miles of ocean and islands. What else is that but a king?” Cassian shrugged, “But, your party will need work, we won't hold you.”

“Ah, I _did_ interrupt your shopping. Sorry about that…” Affan cleared his throat, “We’re aiming to start just before dinner, all around the workshop and garden.”

“We’ll be there.” 

_“Alright,_ what’s your plan?” Eret asked, knowing him so well.

He gathered his thoughts as he packed more of the fruit away between the wine, brow creasing deeper.

“There's still no sign of any ships, so Safiyah is safe. We can check on her progress during the party, maybe even use it as a distraction to get her things to the ship if they're ready. As for Reza… we will mind our own business. We can't let him suspect anything but, well. You've seen where our cleverness comes from, and it's not _him.”_ he smirked, “Let him think what he wants, he's not hard to sneak around.”

“I'm guessing your _Mom_ had a hand in all your sneakyness?” Eret nudged his side.

“In part, my brothers too. I'm sure Zayd will get himself out of the workshop, and you’ll get to meet his wife Daniyah, daughters Basira and Feyral- I can't _believe_ I forgot they were twins!” he sighed, leaning into Eret’s shoulder, “I'll bet this was Mama’s idea, to get everyone together before we go.”

“Yeah… sounds like something a mom would do.” Eret agreed.

“And you'll get to see what a _real_ party looks like.” he teased, “A _proper_ band for Andalusi music, the dancing…”

Above them, Skullcrusher hooted, eager and **demanding** to know **when** and **where.** They both chuckled, answering **soon** and **home.** Wait, no **not yet** Crush get back here-!

There were a few hours yet, so they poured over the contents of their packs, mulling back and forth over last purchases. There was room for more food in Lantana’s pack, maybe some almonds? And on that note, they could get some snacks to save for the road. He frowned, sorting again.

“I think we’re missing a gift for Gobber.” he muttered.

Eret straightened in shock, “That _stall,_ I forgot to tell you! I found one with leather tools, it was tucked out of the way. Come on-”

They raced back to town to complete their list, and _damn_ he wished he had all these back on Berk. Bladed combs to punch thread-holes a dozen or two at a time, burnishers and carving tools of every shape and size… They got a whole set for Gobber, plus a few of the more useful tools for Snotlout, Ruff and Tuff. A rolled-leather mallet and brush of hair-fine brass wire joined the mix, for their smith’s finer metalwork. _Perfect_. Now, the long walk back.

“So, perhaps we can try to bring a _tuna_ to the party. A small one.” he mused.

Eret squirmed, _“You_ can, I’m not touching it. Lantana’s gone and ruined that.”

“More for me!”

“How can you even _think_ about eating after that?!”

“It's _good!_ You're really going to let a dragon spoil good food?”

“She puked it _directly_ into my lap Cass!”

***

Just _watching_ Cass clean and scale the tuna Foxglove caught almost turned his stomach. Crush making a snack of it's head didn't help, but that **hunger** gnawed at the Rumblehorn’s very bones. It was more than that, he was **aching** all over, even his horns. This wasn't _nothing_ anymore. What’s **wrong?** he pressed, you're **hurting.** The reply was no less baffling: **growing,** getting **bigger** he had to **protect.** **Protect** who, we’re **safe-**

 **Home, family, friends, kin,** **_children-_ **

“Wha- _kids?”_ he scrambled over, lifting Skullcrusher under the jaw, “When did _that_ happen?”

 **Spring,** Crush answered, the eggs, the **hatchlings** would come **soon** and he had to **protect**.

“Oh _Crush.”_ he hugged under the dragon’s neck as best he could, “That’s amazing!”

The rest of the flock gathered close, buzzing with **delight** and **joy** and **jubilation** , and Skullcrusher’s purr deepened. Cass slipped through the milling scales, tucking up against him under the Rumblehorn’s wings and they laughed. _Five_ eggs were on the way, and Crucible’s pup should be hatched by the time they got home. Looks like they would still be busy this winter.

It should be about time to head up. _Maybe_ it was early but there was a whole tuna to cook. Somehow. Cass trussed the thing up so Tyrian could carry it in his teeth, and most of their flock came with them. Dad was going to stay with the crew for now, he had his own goodbyes to get through. The Wingweavers were content to stay with them and guard the ship, and as big as they were that was probably for the best. Skullcrusher was already a stretch, he would have to land around the back of the house for his onn safety. The crowd out front was bigger than he expected, probably friends and other well-wishers. Good thing they had such a big fish.

The _whole_ flock landed on the hill, just in case.

“Looks like a big party.” he hopped to the ground, straightening his vest, “How many were you expecting?”

Cass laughed, shaking out his hair, “You don't _plan_ for guests in a party like this. You cross your fingers and pray half the city doesn't show up! But, it _is_ early.”

His face fell in contemplation, over their plan, the people coming, and a faint thread of unease worked into Eret’s gut. There were no new ships, there shouldn't _be_ any problems, what was he worrying for? He gave his head a little shake, and slicked his hair back into place.

“We need to get this cooking. Might as well introduce ourselves.” he finally shrugged.

“Yes… Tyrian, come along. You can explore when this is in the kitchen.” Cass tugged the Nadder about.

All chatter stopped as they turned the corner, and **shock** struck through Cass like lightning. There was Safiyah, Mama, Zayd, Affan- and one more, a man a bit older but so familiar- The spitting image of Reza, he must be- **Jarrah** Cass supplied. But, didn't he move somewhere else? Either way he was here and _furious,_ with that same reigned-in storm on his face that he'd witnessed the only time he met Stoick, all bearing down on their father. That slowed to a stop once Tyrian clucked and all eyes turned their way. Safiyah was already beaming, Zayd shifted nervously, Affan gawped and Jarrah, _he_ looked like he had seen a ghost. **Cass, go** he gave his husband a nudge, and Cass stumbled, then scrambled up and over the garden wall. He could go the long way around, since the presence of all nine dragons would have Reza on his _best_ behavior. Good. The five siblings crushed close and he **heard** the plan Cassian whispered between them. A few of the dragons would ‘steal’ them away, he would chase after to play hero and in private they could talk. The Reapers, Datura and Lantana perked as the plan passed on to them and they returned sly **agreement.** Eret would stay behind to soothe any fears, since Zayd and Jarrah’s families were here, mingling with the others. Once Cassian and the others separated and the dragons were in position, the yearlings leapt into the air. Datura scooped Safiyah up as Oleander, Scorpion, and Amanita each grabbed a brother and they scattered, rounding the hill out of sight.

“Wha- no! Lantana!” Cass barked, leaping over her shoulders when she landed to follow.

He made a show of groaning and scrubbing his face, “Sorry! Sorry, they're babies if you’ll believe it.  _Very_ excitable, they just want to play. Tyrian, come on your kids are causing enough trouble.” 

The Nadder grumbled, but stomped along after a few more nudges.

“Oh stop it, they get it from _you.”_ he scolded, “So… we brought fish? Don't know where to put it.”

The children stared up in awe from around their mothers’ skirts, three with one, she must be Daniyah, and two boys with the other. Jarrah’s wife? The oldest boy might’ve been 10, but the twins couldn't be more than... 5? 6?

Mama crossed the garden, shaking her head, “Come, the kitchen is this way. You couldn't have  _warned_ us?” 

“Sorry ma’am, don't know what came over them.” he ducked sheepishly.

He didn't miss the sly gleam in her eye as she led him, and the tuna, inside. The dragons would be enough of a distraction to get them a few minutes of privacy.

“He’s just taking them to talk.” he said quickly.

“Good, no telling who’s listening in.” Mama sighed, “I'm just grateful Jarrah got here in time…”

_“You_ sent for him?” he grunted as he hoisted the fish onto the counter.

“Yes, as soon as I caught wind of what Reza did. I had thought he might’ve been able to talk some sense into their father, but now… they can all say goodbye.” she sniffed, so quietly he barely heard it.

“It won't be six years again, I _swear_ it. Even if I have to drag them both back.” he hesitated a moment, before patting her back, “It's only nine days on the wing, we  _will_ come back. And I’ll bet Safiyah will have her own dragon, let’s see anyone stop her then.” 

Mama smiled weakly, half-hugging him around the shoulders.

“How’s the packing? She managed to sneak a bag out last night.” he asked after a beat.

“Just about there, the trunk is done. We can try to send that with you tonight.” her shoulders slumped, “I'll make sure she’s up in the morning to meet you.”

“...we’ll keep her safe, whatever it takes.” he promised, “And if she wanted it, there’s a  surplus of single men on Berk. _Including_ the King’s cousin.” 

“You're playing matchmaker  already?” she scoffed.

“Not at all! Just stating a fact.” he chuckled, “So, uh… what should we do with this? It was Cass’s idea, I don't have the first clue what to do with a fish this big.”

“I'll think of something.” she huffed, “That boy of mine… At least  _this_ one’s dead.” 

“I've heard a few stories. Snakes and wild kittens-” 

Skullcrusher thrummed with **delight** outside, and a few children squealed.

“I'll go make sure they're behaving.” he shook his head, “If you need a little muscle, feel free to call.”

“Yes yes, go save my grandchildren.” Mama waved him out.

He paused in the doorway of the kitchen, slowly running his hand up the worn wood of the post. This was _Cassian’s_ home, the one he was born and raised in, likely the same as the day he left it. Plastered-white walls, broad beams, tall windows that let in great shafts of light… and it all smelled of smoke and spices. Tempting though it was, he couldn’t snoop around to see more. What were those kids’ names again? Ali, Basira… Fary? Fariah? Damn…

***

The impromptu flight was over in a few seconds. Downhill, around the corner, and comfortably out of sight he finally directed the dragons to stop on a nice little plateau. The Reapers set his brothers down with utmost care, but Safiyah… despite Datura’s best efforts, she tumbled right onto her rear. Affan at least had the sense to help her up while he dismounted.

“What is going _on?”_ Jarrah wheezed, “Cassian’s home with a flock of fairytale beasts, Safiyah got betrothed to an olive oil merchant that’s killed all his wives, and  _now_ they’re running off?” 

He shared a glance with Safiyah, “That’s… the short version, yes. We’re leaving tomorrow morning.”

Jarrah slumped, dragging a hand down his face as Scorpion nudged Zayd along to join them. Amanita tip-toed after Affan, chirping her **curiosity** until he finally gave her a pet.

“And who’s that giant? Where is all this _coming_ from?” Jarrah gestured wildly.

“He’s your brother-in-law, be _nice.”_ Safiyah glowered in a way they _knew_ not to challenge.

But the owlish stares turned his way and he rolled his eyes.

“I'll tell you another time, they’ll be missing us before long.” he huffed,”We’ve got eyes all over the port and city, this ‘Caligula’ isn't mooring without us hearing about it. We’ll pick Safiyah up in the morning and be well out of reach by nightfall. It's only a little over a week to Berk, we can come back whenever the weather allows. We  _will_ come back. To al-Mariyah, even _Cordoba.”_

The Reapers nuzzled more instantly at their chosen brothers, and he had to laugh at their expense.

“Those are some _lively_ fairytales though. How do they measure up?” he teased.

“They’re very-” Oleander rolled into Jarrah’s arms and purred,  _“-alive._ How in the world..?” 

“I'm sure more will want to hear that story. How about a proper ride back?” 

He coaxed the Reapers a step back until they crouched enough for his brothers to throw a leg over their backs. _This_ would be interesting.

“Now, hold tight with your knees- Affan, mind your heels. We’ll fly slow, just focus on staying still. Safiyah, same thing, try to lay low.” he instructed, and mounted Lantana in turn.

They all wobbled a bit, but they _flew,_ rising gently on the wind to land back in front of the workshop. His nieces and nephews rushed out to meet them, and _God_ how they had grown. But over them and between the milling dragons, Reza glowered like a child being punished. Fine, let him be a petulant infant. There was a party to get into motion, by the looks of it they didn't have any food out, or music-

Wait- _damn_ he forgot his lute.

“Cass!” Eret called from the doorway, “You wanted this fish, come help your mother cook!”

 _“Fine.”_ he grumbled, ducking under Tyrian’s neck, “You all play nice now.”

The flock chirped their **agreement** before falling right back into the thrum of **kin.** Reza almost moved to stop him, but _one_ look put the old man in his place. This may be his father’s house, but he was no _king,_ and Cassian wasn't his to control. Not anymore.

Mama and his sisters-in-law were already working at the herbs and salts while Eret manhandled the great bulk of the fish into more manageable steaks, carving them neatly off each side of the backbone. Huh, maybe they should've done that already.

“Safiyah’s trunk is ready to go.” Eret said under his breath, “We can take that tonight.”

“Even sooner, I was going to get my lute. If we can get it through her window out back, I can handle the rest.” he replied, “And I'll see if Father is ready to join. I know he wanted to get his affairs in order with the crew, but if he’s finished… no sense missing out.”

“Yeah…” Eret sighed, “And I’d check with the ships, make sure they haven't seen anything.”

“...also true.” he huffed, “The port _looked_ clear, but a second check couldn't hurt.”

“Now, am I doing this right? This is the _weirdest_ fish I’ve ever dealt with, it's so _thick.”_

“Yes, that's fine.” he took the wide dish his mother passed over, “What is your  _marvelous_ plan Mama? Lemon and parsley? Or rosemary and pepper-” 

“Honey and thyme, no tableside cooks in _my_ kitchen.” she swatted at him with a spoon.

_“Yes_ Mama…” he pouted.

Safiyah joined them a while later, and with a pointed glance from their mother they snuck off to her room. It was a little harder to squeeze out her window than it used to be, but he managed and caught the trunk as it tipped over the sill. He hid it behind a bush and scrambled back inside, where Safiyah stared at her tiny room, lost, _taking in_ what she was leaving behind. He knew that feeling well.

“Saffy…” he murmured, slipping an arm over her shoulders, “It's not forever. We can come back whenever we want, we can  _go_ where we want. We could see half the _world,_ like all those stories-” 

She shook her head, “That was  _your_ dream Cassy. I just… I don't want to be handed off like a cup to be _used_ until there’s nothing left of who I was. And that's all I can look forward to here, if Father has his way. He's just turned so _bitter_ about everything.” 

She growled her frustration, grinding the heels of her palms into her eyes, and he hugged tighter.

“That won't happen, not on Berk. Women’s lives don't start and end inside four walls there.” he managed half a smile, “And, I  _do_ believe you’ll get on well with Astrid. She’s the chieftess, and her dragon is Tyrian’s mother. Being married and a mother herself hasn't slowed her down one bit, she’s one of many that _trained_ me to fight.” 

Safiyah sniffled and tucked deeper into his side, at least until she steadied herself.

“...I can _really_ pick a dragon?” she asked with a wobbly smile.

“I think it's just as likely a dragon will pick _you._ That's what happened to me at least.” he chuckled, “Tyrian followed me all the way to Eret’s house and spent the night in front of the door, he was  _smitten_ at a glance. I can teach you about them along the way, so they don't catch you too unprepared.” 

She giggled and hugged him properly, _squeezing_ until his back popped.

“I need to go get my lute, I won't be but a minute.” he dropped a kiss atop her head, “And I'll see if Father wants to drop by- uh, in-law I mean. You know.”

“Yes, go _on.”_ Safiyah snickered and pushed him towards the door.

He slipped past Eret in the kitchen, confirming his plan with a silent nod and **called** Tyrian in the garden. But they had to get to the back… At his **direction** the Nadder clucked playfully and hopped over the wall, so he would have to chase after. Tyrian waited around the corner for him to leap aboard and delicately plucked the chest off the ground for the quick flight back to the ship.

The Wingweavers perked at their return, frilled auricles twitching, and all was well. He dragged the chest below deck and grabbed his lute from it's spot in the hammock but… where was everyone? It was a bit foolish to only leave the dragons aboard. At his **question,** Lightning pointed across the way to Ragnar’s ship, **kin, there.**

 _“Really?”_ he groaned, “Making me go back over there…”

Tyrian snorted in **agreement,** and he **warned** the Wingweavers to watch close, and keep alert as they fluttered away, off towards the other dock. There was some sort of party on deck with the mingled crews, and no one paid him any mind as Tyrian perched on the rail. He spotted Ori and Blue, but where was their father? The Nadder sampled the breeze, floating back out on the cushion of wind to round the hulk on the boat towards the stern. _There,_ there he-

 _They_ were. Father, and Ragnar stood against the rail, leaning close to speak low, private.

Tyrian veered away, looping back to stop again on a more open bit of deck. Should they be left to their own devices, or… no. He did owe Ragnar an explanation at the very least, if not an apology. After a quick scratch between the shoulders, he slipped from Tyrian’s back and worked his way to the squared-off stern. He could hear them now, the deep rumble of their voices, so tired and worn…

“...you're already in better sorts than I was, you were only gone a few years. I was there all my son’s life, but I wasn't _there_ in heart or mind. He wasn't my _son_ to me, I was his captain when I should've been his father. There are times a young man needs both, order and support and comfort in turns, and I couldn't _let_ myself be vulnerable again. Even for him.”

“I was almost surprised my own children recognized me… It was three years since I had seen them last. Three _years.”_ Ragnar laughed, though it came out weak and bitter, “Those sons of yours, they know how to make a point. And I'm not letting go, ever again.”

“I'm more blessed than I deserve, having them both in my life. Never would’ve dared ask even the gods for that much. Then to have a _place_ with them, I-” Eret sr had to stop to collect himself, “I know I don't have forever, no one does, and I've lost too much time already.”

“Aye… had to hear second-hand all about Ori knocking out his loose teeth, and nearly doing the same to his sister.”

 _“Damn,_ that sounds like your son alright. At that age, Eret was insisting he was part _seal_ just because he freckled in the sun-”

Cassian couldn't stop a spluttering burst of laughter, and the men around the corner went quiet. Damn. Might as well join them now that he was caught.

He slunk up the last few stairs, bashfully avoiding the owlish stares that locked on him.

“Sorry…” he cleared his throat once, then twice, “Just, checking to see how you were getting on. The party is getting properly started soon.”

“Oh, uh-” Father coughed, “Yes, that sounds worth a look.”

“All my nieces and nephews are there,” he added, a little more softly, “They're more Dunni’s age I think, between 6 and 10. They only speak Andalusi of course, not that such a thing-”

He paused. Ori and Dunni only spoke Norse but… _someone_ had to translate for the fleet eventually and it was easier to learn young. What if there was a way…

“Uh… you were saying?” Ragnar prompted.

“You'll need someone as a translator, we can't follow you _everywhere_ . If we could find someone to teach your kids Andalusi, you’d be free to roam just about every country in the south and east of the sea. And those are all dry lands with very little in the way of forests, so good markets for lumber. But _who…”_ he frowned, thinking hard- wait, “No, later. I- I never had any intention of being a hero to anyone, much less your son. I didn't-” 

“No…” Ragnar cut him off gently, “You did what you knew was right, and there's no force of man or god that can stop a young boy dreaming. And that includes me. I'll do whatever it takes to make him happy, it's- it's what he deserves.”

“He _is_ a remarkable young man. I'm sure he’ll go on to do great things.” he said, growing quiet.

Father clapped a hand on his shoulder, shaking him gently.

“Come on, it's our last night. Let's have some fun.” he offered a small smile, and that was enough.

Cassian and Tyrian walked back, it would be rude to fly off and leave the rest to follow. Ragnar did come with Milla, Ori, Blue and Dunni, and of _course_ Griselda, Grimmel and Chaghatai tagged along like ducklings. At least it was _only_ them. Ahmed and his band joined them along the way, and the rest of the staff from the shop caught up too, led by old Crispino himself. That young smith with the golden hair almost hid among them, but still stared far longer than was polite. Strange… and something nagged at the back of his mind. He was _familiar,_ in an inconsequential way.

Tryian smelled the tuna roasting long before home was in sight, and that made his mouth _water._ Even Lantana couldn't spoil his favorite, and there would be plenty to go around, plus salads of lentils and chickpeas with onion, herbs and fennel, maybe even _stewed peaches-_

“So, ah… who’s _this_ little fella?” Ragnar ducked close, pointing out the youngest apprentice.

“No idea, but he's from my brother’s shop.” he shrugged, “He just became a master silversmith, his work was approved this morning. And if I remember right, he can finally get married to that girl he was betrothed to. Sir Crispino, what was that lady’s name? From Affan’s betrothal.”

“Ghadir!” the fair smith said, suddenly very close.

“Uh, yes. Thank you. Oh look, we’re here!” he took the chance to slip away.

Affan shot past him to meet his crew, and Ori quickly caught up with Blue and Dunni.

“This was _your_ house?” the boy asked.

“Yes, for a long time. This is where I learned to make glass, with the rest of my family. My brothers, my sister, nieces and nephews... my mother is inside cooking, and that monkfish is my father.” he met Reza’s glare with his own, until the old man looked away.

“He doesn't _look_ very nice.” Ori grimaced, and Blue snarled in **contempt.**

“No, he isn't. But everyone else is, even if the kids are younger than you. I bet they'll love Blue.” he gave the boy a nudge and the dragon sprinted ahead.

All the instruments got Skullcrusher’s eager attention, and the new arrivals openly stared. Some of the smiths even pulled out little notebooks to make sketches. Ah, he should make sure they didn't get ahead of themselves, couldn't have any accidents...

_“So.”_ he ambled back towards the gate, “Yes, these are dragons, you can introduce yourselves. Just keep calm, be gentle, and let them come to you-”

The fair smith rushed right to Foxglove, almost _grabbing_ at her face. She hissed low and danced away, long enough for him to catch up and haul the man back by the collar.

_“What_ _did I just say?”_ he snarled, looming higher as the man shrunk back.

“Enzo you _idiot.”_ Affan took over, dragging his coworker away.

This ‘Enzo’ stumbled along, still staring like a spooked deer, eyes all dark- On. Oh _no._ He would have to keep his distance, they couldn't have this idiot raising suspicion. But the young boy, _Hyder_ he thought he heard, peered over the top of the garden wall and came almost nose to nose with Datura. She sniffed the boy’s hair, ruffling his curls with her breath before rubbing her cheeks back and forth over his head, purring brightly.

_“That_ is how you introduce yourself.” he shot a pointed look to Enzo, “Her name is Datura, we call her kind the Light Fury. They come in many other colors, blue and purple…”

Lantana joined her daughter, and after a moment’s consideration slicked Hyder’s hair back with a slow lave of her tongue. The boy ducked away with a disgusted squawk, and Crispino had a good laugh before _politely_ offering a hand. More of the dragons rose to attention, and the newcomers seemed to get the point.

“Alright, where am I sitting?” Ahmed elbowed forward, catching himself on Crush’s snout, “Who- oh. Well,  _you're_ not a man. How smooth...” 

Skullcrusher snorted, rolling into his old teacher’s hands to breathe deep and thrum with **delight.**

“That would be the ‘Crush’ we spoke of. He’s quite fond of music. Here, we have some benches set up for you.” he took Ahmed’s arm, more to help him balance. His hip must be acting up…

“Seems a _big_ fellow. What color is he?” the musician asked, easing into his seat.

“Mostly green, but he shines like a beetle, all red and gold on the edges.” he explained, “Oh, and here’s Nightshade. She drools a little, so watch where you scratch.”

The Sickle-Scale grumbled **admonishment** that plucked strangely between his ears, nudging him aside with a heavy claw. **Rude** he scolded back, swatting her shoulder.

“I'll just go check on dinner, make sure Eret hasn't gotten stuffed in the oven.” he chuckled.

“Don't be silly, he's far too big!” Ahmed cackled, and Shade rumbled with him, “Ah, this one has a sense of humor! Yes,  _you_ can sit by me my dear.” 

His face almost ached from smiling so wide, but he did want to check in with his mother. He peeked into the kitchen and chuckled under his breath. It seemed his husband had been tasked with minding the oven, stoking it to a proper heat as Daniyah slid in a loaded baking dish.

“So, they put you to work.” he teased, slipping deeper in.

Eret jumped, but quickly relaxed, “Yeah, they did. Couldn't resist a good pair of hands.”

“Oh really? _Just_ your hands?”

“I'm not liking your _tone_ Cassian.” Mama shot a hawkish, _knowing_ look over her shoulder.

His face burned and Eret flushed all the way up to his ears, turning guiltily back to the oven. At least his in-laws were none the wiser, resuming their work and- oh thank Thor _peaches!_ Wait, wait there was a point to coming in here. He edged between Daniyah and Inara, to his mother’s other side, leaning close and speaking low.

“I got the trunk out, and the port is clear.” 

“Good. Now I _know_ you spotted the peaches, get to work on the syrup.” she pushed him along.

_“Yes_ Mama.” he rolled his eyes, but turned to Eret first, “Father is in the yard, but the rabble came with him. And watch out for that smith, I think he's… _interested.”_

He brought the memory of the man’s face by and Eret nodded, frowning minutely. Alright, time to work, peaches didn't stew themselves after all…

***

There came a point where the food was done enough and they only served to clog up the kitchen, so Mama turned them loose. Just in time too, the music was starting from the sounds of it.

“You gonna teach me how to dance? Or just leave me to _languish_ on the sidelines.” he teased.

“Hm, I don't know if you can _handle_ proper Andalusi music, you've only heard it watered down.” Cass teased back, “Safiyah and I made a _legendary_ pair.”

“Oh really? I guess I'll just have to learn from the best.”

They had to help nudge the dragons back along the walls first, and that's when he spotted that blond smith, **Enzo** Cass supplied. The flock would have nothing to do with him, not even Fox or the Reapers. He was **rude** and **too-eager** , worse than any hatchling they had ever seen. And he _watched_ Cassian, Lantana and Nightshade confirmed it. He knew that look, he knew it pretty damn well. They would _definitely_ be keeping an eye on him.

Ahmed struck a few familiar cords and Safiyah swooped in to drag Cass away. It really _was_ an entirely different experience with drums and rattles and three other stringed instruments that brought in so many new layers and beats. And Cass _danced._ He spun and turned and stomped with the rhythm, matching even the smallest parts of the melody with flourishes of the hand, a toss of the head, sliding steps that wove in and out in perfect sync with his sister. How he _smiled,_ it was absolutely blinding, the _both_ of them. And the echoes of Cassian’s pure **joy** left him breathless as his own heart raced to match, wild and relentless. Their eyes just barely met through the flurry of another spin and **sparks** struck in his blood. But with a few more notes, the song was done. _Gods_ he loved this man. Gasping for air between bouts of silent laughter, Cass dropped beside him on the bench, raking flyaway coils out of his face.

 _“That-_ ” he panted, “-is dancing!”

“It sure was. _Damn_ Cass.” he chuckled.

It took a mighty effort not to kiss him, right then and there. He just… nudged Cassian instead. The music continued with much more subdued merriment as they both caught their breath, the bond had gone so deep he **felt** the exertion. But he was aware of that **instinct** too, anticipating every step of his partner and beat of the song, _knowing_ it somehow.

His neck prickled, and from the corner of his eye he caught Reza glowering on the far side of the garden. Let the old man stew for all he cared. This was about Cass and his _real_ family, not pleasing the insatiable. And there was more family now, Cass pointed out aunts and uncles, a few grown cousins, and lamented another uncle that had moved wouldn't be with them. Dad finally snuck over to sit by them with plenty of playful, knowing nudges. As nice as this was, he wouldn't mind going home…

“That sure was something! The both of you!” Dad laughed, “Makin’ me tired just _watching.”_

“I'm a little out of practice.” Cass shrugged, almost bashfully.

“Cass, you were _fine-”_

“-of _course_ they can't dance, look at them! Great lumbering oafs-” they both heard Reza sneer.

Didn't even have the decency to be quiet about it. The music died abruptly and Ahmed turned with painstaking, deliberate slowness to stare the man down as _they_ glared.

“Is _that_ how you speak about all your guests when you think they can't hear you, _Reza ibn Masud?”_ Ahmed asked, tongue sharp as a spear.

Reza spluttered and gathered himself after a beat, “You know it's true, look at them!”

“And how do you propose I do _that?”_ Ahmed said flatly, and Reza blanched.

“I _have_ legs, last I checked.” he shot back, and relished the man going ashen.

“Didn't think he could speak Andalusi?” Cass goaded, “Because  _I_ wager he can dance perfectly well. I’d wager a _dragon_ in fact.” 

**Cass** **_what?!_ **

**Trust me. Together, we’re** **_unstoppable._ **

Shock kept the crowd quiet, even Reza was struck dumb another long moment before his eyes roved over the flock, _considering…_

“That's if I _lose_ of course.” Cass continued, “When I win, you will  _apologize.”_

Cassian rose and crossed the garden in a few quick strides, thrusting a hand forward to force the old man to choose, shake or cower out. Red-faced and steaming, Reza shook once then flinched away like Cass had burned him.

**You might want to ditch the sword.**

**Oh, right. Good idea.**

He tugged the buckle open and set the belt and scabbard aside as Cass did the same, and Ahmed sat straighter.

“So, what shall it be?” he chuckled slyly, so very like Gobber.

“I think you already know. Safiyah’s favorite.” Cass smirked, and his sister cheered.

“Oh, you're feeling _ambitious._ Hope your Northman has the stamina for it.” 

**_Don't you dare._ ** He glowered as much as he could.

Cassian snickered anyway, but **called** him forward.

**Do you trust me?**

**Always.**

The boundaries between them blurred and Cassian’s memories, **instinct** were as his own. He **knew** the notes before they were even plucked, he was **ready** for steps he had never seen. They moved with the drums, slow at first but growing their momentum in waves as the lutes developed their own melody. Every move, turn, step and twist, it just **happened** , he didn't even have to focus on the song. Only Cassian, breathless and jubilant, radiant and victorious, all _his._ And just like that, it was over. There might've been clapping and cheering, but only those shining garnet eyes mattered-

Wait. _Reza_.

They turned as one and found the man pouting like a child. Pathetic.

“Well?” Cass snapped, “I do believe he can dance, don't you?”

“This is the part where you pay up.” Ahmed said cooly, sipping his drink.

Reza fidgeted under dozens of eyes, but properly _flinched_ away from his wife’s glare.

“Fine!” he shrieked, “I am  _sorry!”_

“Sorry for _what.”_ Cassian prompted, nearly growling as he crossed his arms.

Reza only spluttered, looking fit to burst.

“Let me finish that for you: I’m sorry for making assumptions about someone I've never spoken to, and belittling someone who’s _never_ earned such treatment.” Cass’s lip curled in utter disgust, “Kindly  _think_ before you next speak about my people.” 

**I love you** he willed the ghost of a kiss to Cass’s cheek and **felt** his husband’s heart flutter. But the party must go on. As they turned, there was no shortage of disapproval leveled at Reza, even from the _warlords,_ who probably hadn’t a clue what was going on.

“Well, nothing like a little dose of perspective.” Dad shook his head slowly in disbelief.

“Yeah.” he agreed, taking his belt and seat back, “You were _never_ that bad.”

He could only offer a memory of touch in support, a warm arm over Cassian’s shoulders, a gentle message up the neck… Cass sighed, weary but **grateful.**

“Eh, who _is_ that?” Ragnar actually managed to whisper.

“That would be my father, in name only.” Cassian said, frowning harder.

“Oh, that's- wow.” Ragnar winced, _“Thor,_ that sure was something.”

“A polite way to say he’s a _disgrace.”_ Cass snorted, “And utterly spineless.”

 _“You_ said it, not me. But I find myself agreeing.” Eret said.

Past Ragnar, even Griselda and Milla looked appalled and, dare he think it, _sympathetic._

“The food might be ready, I'll go check.” he stood after another phantom **kiss,** “Be right back.”

Cass nodded once and he slipped away, through the crowd and back inside where the air was heavy with the mingling scents of herbs and smoke and spices.

_“There_ you are. Here, take this out.” Mama thrust a huge bowl into his hands, and leaned close, “This isn't the end of it, Reza won't take that lying down.”

“We can handle him, don't you worry.” he said quietly, “Need more hands for this? Or- oh, where did you want to set up?”

“Big table along the wall, and send in the little ones. They have to earn their supper.” she shooed him out.

He didn't have to say a word. The sight of food got everyone moving to help, clearing the biggest table and getting the rest of the dishes from inside. There were more bowls, big and small, platters of tuna, baskets of that flat chewy bread, and more, so much there was barely room to put the utensils and empty plates. Not bad for a last meal in al-Mariyah, even if he didn't know what half of it was. They ate to bursting and there was still plenty for all the people that continued to drop by. Second cousins, family of the other smiths and musicians, Cass _knew_ them all, by relation if not by name, and they were just as enamored with the dragons as the rest. But that man Enzo still watched, even with the dragons keeping him at a fair distance and he just couldn't let that go from his mind. What did this man _want?_ Cass didn't seem to know him at all but Enzo was, dare he think it, _smitten_ as an old flame. He _best_ keep his distance. The music soon started again though, and that was enough of a distraction, at least until that _prickle_ returned. Reza had worked his way close to the musicians and seemed to be ranting and raving to anyone that would listen.

“Of course I hired Ahmed, he's the best! _No one_ could improve his work, and no one could write words like he does-” Reza bragged, and no one cared.

“I’d watch yourself Reza, you're fit to get dragged into another wager.” Ahmed warned.

“Well, I’d wager _all_ my colored glass that no one could!” the old man snapped.

Ahmed laughed to the point of wheezing, and finally turned their way.

“You're going to have his whole _house_ at this rate my boy! Come, what will _you_ wager?” 

_“Two_ dragons, and I win if even a single person is moved to tears.” Cass smirked.

Eret didn't even flinch. It was obvious what song was coming, and he had no doubt half the city would weep for _Once._ He grabbed the lute and passed it over so Cass could join the musicians, and Reza’s smug grin fell. What, did he not _know?_ Sounds about right.

“Oh, is he gonna play that one from the other day?” Dad elbowed him.

“Sure is. Reza doesn't have a clue what he’s stepped in.” he chuckled, but explained a little more at his father’s look, “He bragged, made a bet, Cass took him up on it. Again. Apparently he hasn't learned.”

“Wow. I _almost_ feel sorry for the poor bastard.” Dad said, expression saying otherwise.

 _Once…_ he knew the words well enough to join, in _theory,_ but. Well. They'd be better off with a chorus of Terrors, he couldn't carry a tune in a bucket. That may be just as well, this was _their_ song and they couldn't risk making that more apparent to a crowd this large. Cass took his seat and practiced a few familiar cords as the rest of the band readied, and Ragnar jolted.

“That was _him?”_

He and his father both stared, until the man sheepishly explained.

“After… _you know,_ when we were sailing out, that last week. _Every_ night we heard music, but never figured out where it came from. Mystery solved I suppose.” 

He just rolled his eyes and set his attention back where it belonged, as Cassian’s backup rose to meet him, mostly drums and some other small stringed instrument. But Cass was the star here, everything else only punctuated the melody, lifted it to new heights as he _sang._ Even if the crowd knew the music already, _this_ would be entirely new and they wore surprise plain as day on their faces. _Their_ song plucked at heartstrings, so much more poetic in Andalusi than Norse when he could understand it but still the same in spirit. Ladies wept, gentlemen sneakily scrubbed their eyes, children were utterly entranced, hell even _Griselda_ seemed to thaw.

And Reza stared, slack-jawed. Even he couldn't be that dense, he _had_ to see this was his son’s own love story.

The applause didn't even wait for the song to properly end, Safiyah and Nimat both almost tackled Cass from his seat and Reza wilted.

“I'm sure you can go get his _winnings_ gathered Father.” Jarrah piped up.

That seemed to strike a spark in the man, and he _raged._

“How _dare_ you! I never permitted you to learn-” 

“Reza, be _silent.”_ Mama rounded on him like a rogue wave, “Can you not  _see_ what you've done to this family? You can't blame everyone else forever!” 

“And I never needed your ‘permission’ to learn anything.” Cass gathered himself as if to strike,  _“Including_ the ‘family secrets’. How about one last wager? I prove I figured out the net-orbs all on my own, that I was _always_ good enough to carry on the family name. Right here, right now.” 

Reza fumed, “And  _what_ are the stakes?” 

“I offer the whole _flock,_ all 11 of them.” Cassian stalked closer, “But  _when_ I win, you will call off Safiyah’s betrothal to the man they call _Caligula.”_

The crowd gasped, and roared into protest.

“Reza you _fool!”_

“How could you! Your only daughter-” 

“He's a _monster_ Reza!”

Eret edged through the crush of people to keep them back, to give Cass room and Datura dropped from the roof to help, barring the way with her wings. Even now, he could see Reza’s will crumbling.

“What would you have me do?” the old man cried, “There  _was_ no one else!” 

“You could’ve let her _choose.”_ Cass snarled, “And you knowingly damned her instead. That's why  _I_ left all those years ago, and now you've done it again. You've forced our hand, so are you _man_ enough to own up to it?” 

Cass jabbed a hand right into Reza’s gut, putting him on the spot and _pinning_ him there. The dragons towered above the angry mob, rumbling a threat all their own. Pale and trembling, Reza shook on the deal and Cass stormed off. He followed of course, with Safiyah and Jarrah slipping into his wake.

 **The workshop is around back, the furnaces are always running…** Cass thought to him.

 **I'm with you luv, it'll be done in two shakes.**

Around the corner, their siblings rushed to catch up.

“Cassian, are you _mad?”_ Jarrah hissed, “He never even taught me!”

“And that was his greatest mistake. Thinking we were too stupid to figure anything out without him. He's not _half_ as clever as he thinks he is, and we’re the ones that had to suffer for his ego.” Cass scowled, “It took me  _two days_ of tinkering, they're not nearly as hard as he made them out to be. You just need jacks and a sphere-form.” 

“Why did you go and bring up the _betrothal?”_ Safiyah squeaked, clawing at Jarrah’s arm,  _“Now_ he’ll suspect something!” 

“Saffy, if we _don't_ hold him accountable now, what’s to stop him from doing the same thing to his grandchildren? He won't change unless we _make_ him.” Cass sighed, deep and bitter.

Eret was more than ready once Cass threw the doors open, following his lead to get a blowpipe and dipping-rod heated in the forge. There was a little melt left in the crucible, and he gave it an exploratory stir while Cass waxed a set of tongs and soaked a few wooden tools. Onlookers had gathered outside the doors to watch as Reza elbowed in, still fuming.

“What is _he_ doing in here?” the old bastard snapped.

“‘He’ has a name you know. You're even allowed to use it! Fancy that.” he snarked, glaring over his husband’s head, “Cass taught me everything he knows and built his own forge from nothing, so how about you show a little  _respect?_ He knows what he’s doing.” 

The only bellows around had to be pumped by _hand,_ how primitive. He set to work anyway, and once the pipe was ready Cass gathered a hefty gob of melt, spinning it briefly before building up the air-bubble, shaping, _cultivating_ the perfect sphere- and then stabbed it through the bottom, mashing the walls together at a dozen little points. The bubble needed to fill again slowly, heating in the blaze of the furnace, spinning constantly on a stand. It was almost time for him to step in, just a little more refining from the master. With a few practiced exchanges, he caught the sphere with tongs as Cass knocked it free, then took the dip rod to seal the gap, making a little loop out of the tail of extra melt. The orb had cooled to perfect transparency, showing the threads of glass strung though it like some too-big spider web. Nice as it came out, it wouldn't last long outside the cooling cave, what a shame.

“There. Same as yours.” Cass plunged the rods into a bucket of water, where they hissed sharply and Reza flinched.

Jarrah, Zayd, Affan, Safiyah _and_ their mother blocked the door, with no sympathy on their faces and even _less_ could be found behind them.

“There's no weaseling out of this one. I don't _care_ about the glass, Safiyah is what matters.” Cass grappled Reza closer by the collar, “You  _will_ tell that bastard’s rats that the engagement is off, and you never should've accepted in the first place.” 

“It's too _late_ you stupid boy, he's already here.” Reza sneered, “And I've already sent for him.”

The room turned to ice and Cassian’s fury turned even _colder._ Damn. He tossed the ornament into the same bucket, where it shattered instantly.

“You've done _what.”_

“Not so clever _now_ are you?” Reza tried to smirk, but terror still stained his face.

“Well, now that you've told us he's coming, we can end this _ourselves.”_ Eret gently pried Cassian’s hands loose, “If you think we can't handle a man like that, you're  _sorely_ mistaken. That big fella out there, and the skinny pale man? Your son beat the _both_ of them senseless, and that was _without_ dragons.” 

“We’ve felled _armadas,_ I can't even begin to describe how much I am _not_ intimidated.” Cass snorted, “Let's go, and get the dragons out of sight. Safiyah, you need to stay inside. And everyone else!”

The crowd went silent.

“You've heard this, but we need to put on a show. Let this bastard _think_ he has the advantage, but _here_ we’ll send him packing. Keep away from the street, and let us handle the fighting. I'll deal with _you_ later Reza.” 

Jarrah and Zayd seized the old man by the arms and dragged him off, back to the garden as the crowd dispersed. They couldn't keep all these people here, and they seemed to know it. The dragons too were just aware, already hiding themselves on rooftops or behind the house. But Dad and the rest of the northerners were clueless.

“So, that murderer our sister got betrothed to? He's already here and on his way. Milla, get the kids and Blue inside. If this goes over a barrel, they don't need to see it.” he sighed, and loosened his sword in it's scabbard.

 _“What?”_ Griselda jolted, “How do you know this?”

“The murderer part? Well, I'm no expert, but having a new wife every year because the last died is pretty damn suspicious.” he grimaced, “And apparently he's been after Safiyah for _years._ If she thinks this man is bad news, I believe her.”

He never knew Griselda was capable of empathy. She twisted in horror and fury, quickly binding her hair back, up and out of the way.

 _“Let_ him come, I'll gut him like a fish.” she snarled, “So long as I'm breathing that won't happen to another girl-”

...oh. One glance to Ragnar and a minute nod confirmed his suspicions. Her past wasn't his business, but if it put Griselda in their corner? He’d keep his nose out.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but this isn't the archipelago. We can't just start brawling in the streets.” he warned, _“_ You need to keep on the right side of the law, _we’ll_ handle them. We were already leaving first thing tomorrow, and she's coming with us.”

Griselda looked fit to tear someone in two, until Chaghatai eased her back with the barest touch and a long, knowing look. She dropped back onto the low bench and yanked a dagger out of the folds of her strange tunic-dress, twirling it over her fingers as she scanned the city. They should get the smiths out of here too, and the rest of the family inside…

“Son, what do you need?” Dad caught him by the arm.

“We need to get as many people out of here as possible. We’ve got Reza locked down, and the kids need to stay inside, _especially_ Safiyah.” he frowned, “We’ll keep the dragons in reserve, they're the last resort.”

“That's probably wise… Playing the rest by ear?”

“Yeah, we have to. Maybe Lantana can take a look around, or Datura… We need to know when he’s coming.”

The Furies were quick to comply, shooting high and streaking over the city, where their scales hid them well against the first blush of sunset. Cass herded the smiths and musicians out, though that Enzo kid needed to be dragged off by the collar. What was _with_ him? Finally, Cass retreated to the far corner of the garden for quiet, but his mind was a storm of **fear** and acidic **fury** that threatened to knock him flat. **I'm here** he tried to soothe, joining his husband in the nook.

“What's the plan Cass?” he asked properly, just barely brushing their fingers together.

“Crispino’s going to get the guards. I don't know what good it'll do, but we have to stall until they get here. I've already filled Saffy in, but if we need to we’ll pretend we came with an offer of betrothal to the ‘king’s’ cousin. Yes, I know, but we can run with it, that sounds nice and lofty.” Cass’s scowl deepened, “That _snake._ Once we get this sorted, we’ll be having that _talk.”_

“...do you want me there?” he asked even softer.

“I-” Cass slumped, "I don't know.”

“I'm here Cass…” to hell with the city. He dragged Cassian close and hugged him _tight._

***

They didn't have long to wait. Lantana knew a rotten, walking corpse when she saw one, and Datura spotted movement at the Alcazaba. Both Furies came streaking back, thrilling **alarm,** and the rats were closer. That man Caligula seemed every bit the pompous ass he thought, and Eret agreed. Fat, balding, pock-marked and probably riddled with gout, judging by the way he _waddled._

“Damn, Reza sure knows how to pick ‘em.” Eret sneered, “Thanks Tana. Find a good spot to perch, yeah? We need you watching over us.”

“I expected no less, given his reputation. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” he lurched to his feet, growling low, “And I'll gladly give him the same treatment as Ragnar if I must.”

“Let _him_ start it, especially if the guards are around.” Eret said, “Come on, we’re gonna wait by the gate. Even _Griselda’s_ out for blood, it's a thing of beauty.”

“Oh really? I was starting to think she didn't have a soul.” he snorted.

“I, uh… think this hits a _little_ close to home for her. Just a guess, but she's taking it pretty personal.” Eret frowned, “I've already warned them to keep a level head.”

“Good… The backup will help, even if they just stand there, being _tall.”_

“Oh, finally getting bitter about that, are we?” Eret nudged him.

“Maybe. But I wouldn't be so light and quick if I was stuck being _your_ size.” he nudged back.

Their makeshift army lay in wait, with Reza sat uncomfortably between Ragnar and their _real_ father, sweating profusely and shrinking away from his glare.

“They're coming.” he said, “And  _you._ Whatever happens, know that it's on _your_ head.” 

Luckily, Reza thought twice before opening his mouth. And they waited, until Foxglove reported footsteps from a few houses down, then saw the group properly. Caligula, a few guards, plus what might be porters, nine altogether. What was he even hoping to accomplish? It was nothing of concern, only four of the men were armed at all. What a joke, he was almost insulted.

“Only four armed men, you can relax.” he said aloud, then again in Norse.

Reza, Jarrah, everyone but Father shot a confused look their way.

“How do you _know_ that?” Reza asked in a panic, “You- you're just guessing!”

He chuckled darkly, “You've gone and tangled with powers you can't even  _understand._ My dragons are as my eyes and ears, I see as they do, _hear_ what they hear. This slab of mutton you think is a man never had a prayer.” 

The footsteps were clear with his own ears now, and **malice** rose in beacons from the dragons’ hiding places. He didn't have to ask, Eret moved with him to block the gate, hands ready at their weapons. They could _smell_ the Bastard long before he came into view, unwashed rank drowned by half a dozen different perfumes. It sent poor Skullcrusher and Tyrian reeling.

“That _alone_ should’ve been a deal-breaker.” Eret gagged.

“Indeed.” he coughed, nose wrinkling.

Finally, finally the pathetic envoy in threadbare, patched up finery stopped short, gawping at the wall of muscle blocking their way. Oh, how _sweet_ the fear on their faces was.

“You might as well turn around, there's nothing for you here.” he snarled.

The porters in front shifted uneasily, struggling with the chests they carried as one by one, they looked back to their employer. This ‘Caligula’ shoved his way through them, ruddy with indignation and there he froze. Looking, studying, putting the pieces together, weighing the risk.

“You've wasted your time you _putrid_ old goat. Get out of al-Mariyah while you can still walk _.”_

“Who _dares-”_ the man seethed, spittle flying from his lips. _Revolting._

“The Shadow of the Shetlands, Archer’s Bane, Dragon-Speaker.” he took two steps forward, forcing Caligula back four, “I am  _Cassian Eretsson,_ and you will get out of my _fucking_ city.” 

Caligula gawped like a beached fish, stumbling back again as the guards shuffled closer. **Awe** and **adoration** shone from Eret like starlight, but he couldn't be distracted now, not when they still needed to stall this bastard. The dragons rumbled, but **not yet,** stay low…

“You-” Caligula spluttered, “ _You_ have no right to deny me!” 

“I am her brother and all _four_ of us object, along with any other human with _eyes_ you eelmonger. And considering I had a much better offer for betrothal, I'm _particularly_ insulted.” play into his ego, perfect.

“Insolent _boy,_ don't you know who I am?!” Caligula squealed.

He chuckled, “Hey Reza! Your future son-in-law can't remember who he is!”

His brothers snickered, and Reza shrank in on himself.

“I don't give a _damn_ about who you are, because you don't hold a candle to us, or the cousin of a _king_ for that matter.” he let his voice rise, “It's such a  _shame_ our father settled for your ‘offer’ before I could bring ours. Can you believe he spurned the chance to marry into _royalty?”_

He strutted a few steps, gesturing wide while Datura tracked the guards streaming from the Alcazaba. Good.

“Needless to say, my sister isn't going _anywhere_ with you, bloated, greasy, _poxed_ shambling corpse of a man, we’ll put _dragonsteel_ to our words if we must.” 

He drew his knives to drive the point home, as Eret pulled his sword free in a long, slow flourish. Caligula scurried behind his shabby guards, shoving them forward.

_“Protect_ me you idiots!” he cowered like a pig.

“I'll take the left, you get the right. And let's _not_ kill them.” he said casually, rolling his shoulders.

“Naturally.” **Datura’s leading the guards over, just a bit more. They look** **_serious._ **

**Why do I have the feeling that there's something** **_more_ ** **going on here?**

**We’ll see soon enough. Keep your head luv, they may be a joke but that’s no reason to drop your guard.**

**_Yes_ ** **my love. Come, let's put on a show.**

They moved as one, charging when the guards barely had their weapons drawn and- was that _bronze?_ What kind of idiot used _bronze_ for swords in the age of iron? His knives bit deep into the lesser metal when their weapons clashed, giving enough leverage to wrench the sword from the man’s hands and toss it down the street. This fellow had sense and bolted the other direction, leaving his companion to weigh his odds… and throw his own weapon away in surrender. Typical.

“It seems money can't get you loyalty _Caligula.”_ Eret snarked, shoving the last guards aside.

“And it's too late to _run.”_ he grinned and **called.**

Their flock rushed in to block every path of escape, teeth bared and claws at the ready. The sellswords were mere minnows, they just had to keep the _prize_ in place and the Bastard looked fit to drop. **Easy, easy,** he warned them, keep him **here.**

“I _did_ give you fair warning grease-merchant.” he ambled casually around the huddle of cowards, “You won't be laying one finger on anyone, ever again. The emir’s men will be here shortly and they seem  _awfully_ angry. Whatever could you have done to make enemies here?” 

“The _smell_ is reason enough. Shame we didn't bring a Scauldron.” Eret laid his sword over his shoulders, “And I thought you were gonna teach me all the good curses! You've been holding out!”

“All in good time.” he teased, but Datura was coming, nearly here, “I  _do_ believe we can break off this sham betrothal, eh Reza?” 

He spared a glance back and _everyone_ had emerged from the house to witness this, while Reza seemed to be trying to turn himself inside out. _Coward._ Datura was rising up the hill now, calling **here, almost here,** as the rattle of mail echoed ever closer, finally rounding the corner. He urged the Reapers to make room, opening a path for the guards to file closer while the rest of the flock hemmed Caligula in. The captain of this group had to catch his breath for a moment with at least two dozen more men behind him, but he was absolutely _livid_ and carried himself with much more authority than Cassian expected.

“Lorenzo de Roma, who calls himself _Caligula.”_ the captain drew himself taller,  _“You_ are under arrest for selling adulterated goods in our lands.” 

“I have done _nothing_ of the sort!” the man squealed.

“You tried to sell _60 casks_ of olive oil thinned with the grease of _pigs.”_ the captain snarled.

Horror rippled through the crowd not only in the garden, but in those that had gathered at their windows up and down the street to watch the commotion. And Cassian’s gut still clenched on instinct. This idiot tried to pull a scam like that in a Muslim city?! No wonder they came like hunting dogs.

“Well how about _that._ What a match you made Reza! Aren't you _proud?”_ he wheeled, burning from the inside out,  _“This_ is what is worthy of joining our family? _This is the best you could do?”_

The captain started, “Who are- Get  _him_ in irons, _you.”_

The man brushed right past him after shaking off his bewilderment, storming through the garden gate to haul Reza up by the collar.

“What were you _thinking?_ Just because you're my brother doesn't mean I won't _throttle_ you Reza.” the capt-

Wait. _Wait_ was that-

_“Uncle Isra?”_ he muttered. He moved away hadn’t he? So long ago, to-

To _Cordoba_. Jarrah brought him. Oh, Caligula was in _deep_ shit now.

His uncle turned back slowly, staring long and hard, confusion creasing deep in his brow. No wonder he barely recognized the man, his beard was full and proper now, and hair much longer. But, he still the softer, kinder twin to Reza, even in his features.

“Little Cassian?” Isra dropped Reza into the dust, “No, no it  _can't_ be…” 

“It is him dear.” Mama sighed, arriving behind him to urge him away, back to the gate, “15 years is plenty of time for a boy to become a man. And your timing was impeccable, as always.”

“That _snake_ has been giving us the slip for years, the judges will be _very_ glad to see him.” Isra glowered, “But if all  _that_ was meant to be a dowry, I do believe it is rightfully yours. He certainly won't be needing it where he’s going.” 

The porters were more than happy to set the boxes down, but they fidgeted as Caligula was hauled away. Isra considered them long and hard, then sighed.

“Have you worked for him long?” 

“Only a few weeks.” one of the younger men piped up.

“Move along then. His crimes are not yours.” Isra waved them off.

The dragons had since relaxed, allowing them to pass without so much as a glance. But they _did_ turn their attention to Uncle Isra, and **kin** rose as a **question** that he **affirmed**.

“Didn't think the whispers were true on the road.” his uncle mumbled, “Or the chatter in the city proper. They’re  _real._ ” 

Isra muttered through half a prayer, before looking to him again as it sank in. The dragons, their scale vests, whatever he had heard after arriving.

“They came here with _you?_ But- how? From _where?”_

“They still thrive in the most wild places, and we’ll be returning there at dawn. The rest is a long story I'm afraid.” he slowly put his knives away, and Eret did the same.

But _speaking_ of stories… the only business he had left was his answer.

_“Reza.”_ he snapped, “Come  _here.”_

The old man had no will left to resist and gathered himself off the ground then shuffled out to the street. Cassian couldn't even _look_ at him as he leapt into Tyrian’s saddle, **asking** Lantana to haul the old man aloft, in… in just a moment.

“We’ll be back shortly. You all play nice with Uncle Isra.” he announced, and extended his thoughts to Eret.

 **I need you.** **_Please._ **

**Always** he answered, and the **love** that followed gave him the strength to focus.

Lantana snatched Reza up and took to the sky, quickly followed by Tyrian and Crush. He edged to the front to lead them on, to the hills on the eastern edge of the city, to the _highest_ peak that left the whole bay spread out below them. There they landed and Reza collapsed, gasping for breath while he dismounted.

“He’s not looking so good Cass…” Eret muttered, stopping at his side.

“I don't _care._ You saw that bastard, this man is even less my father than I thought.” he scowled, and rounded on the prone man,  _“So?_ I'm older, it's been years, what was so _damn_ important? Or do you still have an excuse to fall back on?” 

He couldn't think clearly, too many _memories_ of this place haunted him. Years and years of hope that dwindled and ended in bitter disappointment after yet another excuse. Not _this_ time. He hauled Reza to his feet, on the verge of tears as he shook the man.

“What was so- what could be _worth_ dragging me up here, year after year, only to leave me feeling _worthless?_ This was the _one_ time I thought I mattered to you, that I had a _place_ in the family. You couldn't even give me a proper _Andalusi name.”_ he sagged, grip failing, “What did I do? Why was I never good enough? I tried, I tried so  _damn_ hard to learn, to make you proud of me, to show you I was worthy of being your _son._ What did I do _wrong?”_

He let Reza fall and staggered back a step, into Eret’s arms. That **warmth** filled him, held him together long enough to stumble to the nearest rock. There he sat, collapsed more like, and Eret knelt before him as the dragons closed around them both to make a shelter of their wings.

 **I** **_know_ ** **this feeling Cass. Let it out.**

 **I** **_hate_ ** **him. I hate him so much and I hate myself for it-**

 **It's not your fault, you were only a child.** **_He_ ** **was the one that needed to support you.**

 **I only ever wanted to belong, it's not** **_fair-_ **

**No, it wasn't. Even if he had a reason, it hurt you so much. Again and again and he ignored it. He can't force you to endure that forever. He** **_owes_ ** **you the truth, whatever it is. And I'll** **_love_ ** **you, no matter what comes. He could never change that, nothing could, with armies or armadas or just** **_words._ **

This man... he didn't deserve him. The _warmth_ that bloomed around his heart was just enough to drive away the hurt and he grappled Eret closer.

 **I love you, more than light, more than** **_life._ ** **My anchor in the storm, safe harbor and home and all that makes life worth living. Warmth against the cold, a candle in the dark,** **_home-_ **

He sniffled and Eret wiped his cheeks dry yet again. To _hell_ with the world. He wound his arms around his husband’s neck and kissed him, slow, deep, _properly_ as their hearts settled into an even rhythm, perfectly in tune. For just a little longer, he could be strong and stand again. He _needed_ to know.

Reza hadn’t really moved, so they just waited and watched and waited some more, and the dragons hemmed him in. He almost feared it was all for nothing when the old man finally spoke.

“I _couldn't_ tell you.” he mumbled, low and defeated.

“Yes, I _noticed._ And I'm not going to waste any more time on excuses.” his frown deepened.

“No, I couldn't tell you the _truth._ I wanted to, but I _couldn't._ If anyone found out-” 

“Found out _what?_ Speak sense or not at all.” he snapped.

“Your _namesake_ boy, who he was!” Reza cried, growing desperate.

It was a northern name, that much he knew, from outside the caliphate. How did he know someone up there? That- those trips he took, of _course._ But, who?

“Don't tell me you had some secret second family.” he groaned, scrubbing his aching face.

“How _dare-”_

“If you don't want him to guess, just _say_ it.” Eret cut Reza off.

The old man deflated, inch by inch.

“You- you can't breathe a _word_ of this.” he whispered.

“ _Fine_. We’re no strangers to secrets.” Cassian muttered.

Reza struggled for a time, mouth working soundlessly until he finally croaked,  _“I loved him.”_

The shock struck through his core like _ice_ and he had to stare, let it sink in.

_“What.”_

“Was once not enough? I had a wife and _fell for a man_ anyway. It wasn't supposed to happen, I was supposed to be _normal-”_ Reza turned away.

But Cassian dragged him back, betrayal stinging even deeper. He must’ve worn it plain as day on his face, because Reza froze in his tracks.

“All this time, you were like _me?”_ he asked weakly, “All those years I thought I was  _broken,_ and you could’ve _been_ there for me? I thought I was _alone_ in the world until I left. A deviant, a freak, a _mistake._ And _you were like me?”_

“Wha- You said-” Reza stammered.

He laughed, bitter and sharp, “I  _lied,_ same as you! Mother and Safiyah saw right through me, you _really_ can't piece it together?” 

He let that sit, he- he needed to collect himself, calm down. All those years, Reza could’ve been the _one_ person that understood him if he only had the spine to _speak._ And this man decided to name his _son_ after an old flame? Was he supposed to be _grateful?_

**Cass…** Eret’s hands found their place at the small of his back, rubbing slow circles, **you're not-**

 **I know… there were a few dark years when I was young, finding myself. He could’ve** **_helped._ **

**Looks like me managed to add things up. Took him long enough.**

**Like I said,** **_Mama_ ** **was the clever one.**

“So, you named me after some man you fell for. What a _revelation,_ well worth the 20 years of my life I spent waiting.” the sarcasm bit hard, “I'm  _honored_ to be the mule loaded with all your shame and regret! To think, all this time you _set me up_ for failure-” 

“I- that's not all, just… just a moment.” Reza begged.

“Spit it _out_ then!” 

“He saved my life, a long time ago. Before even Jarrah was born.” the old man continued, cowed, “I was going north, got caught up by bandits and he saved me, saw me safely home. I had never  _seen_ anyone like him, I couldn't stay away-” 

Cassian staggered, almost fell, and Eret was just as shocked as he was. That was- _how-_

“God and all of heaven must have a _strange_ sense of humor.” he wheezed, almost trailing to a hysterical giggle.

“What?” 

“That's how I- _we_ met, in the Shetlands.” he couldn't breathe, how was this _possible,_ “That’s why you went north every year, to see him.” 

“At first. The year you were born, he- he was gone before I arrived. The illness came hard and fast, all that waited for me was a gravestone.” Reza was pale, drawn, too hurt to even cry anymore, “I never breathed a word of what I felt. He had his own family, and I was content just… being his friend. Then it was over. I- I never even got to say goodbye. And when I got home, all I could hold on to was keeping his name alive.”

He didn't know what to _think._ All this time, he had been walking in the shadow of a man he never knew, carrying a legacy he never asked for. But this name was one step shy of a _prophecy,_ without this he- he couldn't have Eret, or Tyrian or Foxglove. Would he even have _left_ al-Mariyah if he had known? To think… being _failed_ made all of that, all of _this_ possible.

“I can't forgive you.” he muttered, after far too long, “You  _hurt_ me, and you would’ve sold Safiyah off like a donkey. If she chooses, she’ll be leaving with us in the morning. But… I suppose I can thank you for one thing.” 

Reza dared to look up, so _small_ the way he hunched in on himself.

“If I hadn’t left, dragons would still be stories for another generation in al-Mariyah. There's _hope_ for them now that the city has seen the truth. And, I wouldn't have my _husband.”_

His father gawped, eyes flicking between them until he finally choked, “What?  _How?!”_

“You can call the people of the north, _my_ people ‘barbarians’ all you like, but they accepted all that we are without question. There, we are _free,_ and I'm not giving that up.” he sighed, “Lantana, let's get him home. We’re done here.”

They flew slow this time. He… he needed to collect himself. Safiyah was safe now, they didn't _need_ to spirit her away at the crack of dawn. But if she wanted to go, he couldn't deny her. Berk offered the freedom she so desperately wanted, but al-Mariyah was their home-

 **This isn't the end Cass. I** **_did_ ** **promise Mom we’d be back, even if I had to drag you both by your ears.**

 **Yes… Maybe someday we can bring** **_them_ ** **to visit. The children are old enough to ride double, if we brought some Snafflefangs or Threadtails.**

 **We can plot another day. Are** **_you_ ** **alright?**

 **I don't know…** he swallowed hard, **It's- I almost don't believe it. All those years I spent** **_hating_ ** **myself when one word from him could’ve changed everything…**

Eret had nothing to offer, but **worry** still coursed like floodwater and he tried to **soothe** it as best he could.

 **How many like us have suffered in silence?** He mused, **Do we not have a duty to help, if we’re able? What could we accomplish if we** **_tried?_ **

**It might not happen in one day Cass…**

**Then we lay the foundations for others to** **_keep_ ** **fighting. We waged war so dragons could fly free, a war of words could do the same for those that have to hide themselves away. There must be** **_some_ ** **way to break through all that holds us back…**

 **We have all the time in the world luv. Let's get** **_this_ ** **wrapped up for now.**

Skullcrusher landed first so Eret could help Reza out of Lantana’s claws, and their family still waited in the garden. Mama moved first, meeting Reza at the gate and she took him gently by the shoulders, looking so _tired_ as she scanned his face.

“So, you finally told him.” she said,  _“Don't_ give me that look Reza. I've had 30 years to figure you out, and you aren't half as clever as you think you are. Like it or not, you _should've_ told Cassian a long time ago, but you didn't. Even when he needed you most. You best take a long, hard look at what your choices have wrought.” 

She let the old man slip away, and Cassian rushed to hug her tight. Of course she would glean the truth… but wouldn't know _enough_ to tell him anything meaningful, concrete.

“Oh, you come in _too.”_ Mama said over his shoulder.

Eret folded around them both, then Safiyah threw herself over their shoulders for good measure. He didn't _want_ to leave… but they must. They made a promise.

“Saffy.” he forced the words out, “You're safe, that bastard can't hurt you anymore. Do you  _want_ to stay?” 

She hesitated, and slowly tucked deeper into their mother’s shoulder.

“I can't trust him not to do it _again.”_ Safiyah finally said, “And I want to see this dragon kingdom for myself. There's no shaking me  _now_ Cassy.” 

“You can stay as long as you want, and we’ll still visit.” he promised, “You'll  _love_ it there, I know you will.” 

“Do I _still_ have to get up at dawn?” she pouted.

“Yes Saffy, we need to get moving.” he chuckled weakly, “And, those chests. Was there anything worth keeping? As much as a cheapskate as the bastard was, I doubt it.”

“Some _acceptable_ linens and cookware, mummer’s jewelry and a few bolts of silk.” Mama rolled her eyes, “You can sort through it again if you like, I'm sure you’ll have a better idea of… what she’ll need.”

“We’ll get home in time for the harvest, and then we’ll have to settle in for the winter.” Eret said softly, “We wouldn't be able to visit again until spring.”

“I suppose I'll live…” Mama sighed, squeezing harder, “We’ll be busy getting Affan’s wedding organized, and that will take some time. Ghadir and her family will have to be sent for in Cordoba, plus making all the clothes and finery…”

_“We_ can start the Cordoba parts Mama.” Jarrah said as he joined them.

“And, depending on when it is… We might be able to get here in time.” he sniffed.

“Ghadir _did_ say she wanted a spring wedding.” Affan piped up, bashfully shuffling his feet.

“Oh… Anything more specific than that? There’s just no way to plan from this far off.” 

“Before Ramadan maybe?” Affan could only shrug.

After a quick count of the months, he hummed, “Yes, we could manage that, and winter will give us plenty of time to work on gifts. Is red still your favorite color?”

“It's _green_ now…” Affan mumbled, crossing his arms.

“Because _Ghadir_ looks so _pretty_ in green!” Zayd crowed, swooping by to ruffle Affan’s hair.

His brothers managed a few good hits on each other before Mama spared just _one_ glance over her shoulder. They froze and slunk apart, same as they did 10, 12, _15_ years ago. As achingly _familiar_ as this all was, they had work to do, and Safiyah had to settle her own affairs.

“I have my warm coat, you can use it until we get one made for you. Wool and fur and dragon scales, fit for a _queen.”_ he managed a smile as he scrubbed his eyes.

“You can't gild a _lily_ Cassy.” she playfully scoffed, “But are there any  cute men around? There has to be at least _one._ And one that isn't as tall as a tree. No offense.” 

Eret spluttered, “I'm not  _that_ tall-” 

“Yes, you are.” **and I love it,** he added cheekily, “But you'll have to be the judge of that, I don't exactly keep  stock of everyone on Berk. Though, there are only a few unmarried men your age.” 

“Including this ‘Snotman’?” she rolled her eyes.

“He's not so bad! Compared to last year anyway, after he got some sense knocked into him. And he's the one that made _these,_ my coat too.” he gestured to their scaled vests.

“If you _insist._ Come, help me sort this. I won't need all these pans, and Daniyah was eyeing a few.” Safiyah caught him by the arm to drag him off.

So, sort they did. The cloth they could keep, and about half the kitchen goods, though most of the jewelry went to the twins. It all fit neatly into two of the chests once they were done, they could last these to her other trunk or something. Maybe a net would work? Gold-Clouds was more than able to carry it all, he wasn't worried. But the sun was nearly down, they should get back…

“You should turn in early Saffy, tomorrow is going to be a long day.” he hugged her tight, “You have everything? Your combs, wraps, shoes..?”

_“Yes_ son, I checked.” Mama shook her head and dragged him over to kiss both cheeks, “You keep her  _safe_ you hear me? No flying in storms or through the night-” 

“Mama, _we_ don't even dare to try that, don't worry.” he sniffled, biting his lip, “And we’ll see you in the morning. There's no real rush anymore.”

“You bring those Erets along, I'll make a proper breakfast.” their mother wilted, “Next spring, you  _promise_ me Cassian. Please, promise me-” 

She sobbed, and guilt stung bitter and sharp. Cassian hugged his mother tight, desperately blinking tears away.

***

Leaving hurt, but they had to prepare in the last of the sunlight. There were plenty of hugs to go around, and a few awkward handshakes as they saw the warlor- _captains_ off. Ragnar would swing by Berk again, as promised, and maybe… they could let the kids see it _properly_ this time. Of course their crew still had more trading to do first, it could be a good half a year before _that_ happened. The prospect didn't seem so… sour anymore, even Dunni brightened at the tentative promise. 

“Alright boys, what’s the plan?” Dad yawned, stumbling off Lantana.

“Triple-check all our bags, and hit the sack.” he yawned too, “We’ll make one last visit, have breakfast there while the dragons go eat, get back to the ship to load up... and off we go.”

“Good, good…” Dad sighed, and caught Cassian gently by the shoulder, “Will you be alright lad?”

“I'll manage.” he answered, voice thick, “I'll-” 

Cass swallowed hard, **aching** so fiercely before he finally ducked into Dad’s arms, desperate for a _real_ father’s comfort. It stung all the more knowing why. How could Reza _do_ that…

“So, you found your answers then…” Dad said after a time.

Cass nodded slowly, turmoil still churning around his heart while Dad patted his back.

“I- I know it's hardly been a year, but I'm so _damn_ proud to call you my son. The _both_ of you. It's more than I deserve-”

“You've been more my father in one year than Reza was in _18._ The honor is mine.” Cass sniffled, offering a wet and wobbly smile, “I don't think he _ever_ hugged me, so long as I can remember.”

“Well, I look forward to whatever time the gods will grant me. Gotta get ourselves _home_ first.”

“We’ve got most of our stuff settled.” he finally said, “Safiyah’s trunks need some sort of fixing.”

“Aye… I think we have a net that ripped, should be big enough. Use that old tiller handle for something to hold onto, we should be fine.” Dad thought aloud.

“Sounds secure enough. Let's get it done.” he clapped his hands.

Packs were tightened, saddlebags rebalanced, chests packed and re-packed to keep the glass from knocking, and Dad managed to wrangle Safiyah’s chests with some of his crew. They finished by the time it was truly dark and even the dragons were keen to settle in.

“C’mon luv, time for bed.” he had to haul Cassian away from the bags.

 _“Fine.”_ Cass grumbled, trailing to a yawn.

“I'm sure we can _sneak_ off a few times, when we stop for camp.” he teased.

“That’s the only privacy we may have if Saffy has to stay with us.” Cass pouted, “And we’re _not_ telling her about the springs. I adore my sister, but that's _our_ spot.”

“If you insist.” he rolled his eyes, “C’mon, bed. Sleep. Go.” 

He was just starting to drift to sleep, lulled by the sway of the hammock and the whisper of the waves, when one of the dragons rippled **warily.** Nightshade joined the watch, keen eyes picking out a lone figure slinking down the pier. Tyrin roused too, sniffing- **hatchling** he snorted, **too-eager** and now **intruding** . _Enzo?_ What the hell…

Grumbling, he rolled out of bed and fetched his sword before slogging up to the deck. There, he hid in the shadows to wait. The moon was out, but through Shade’s eyes he could see just fine. **Lay low, be still** he warned the flock, easing a few steps closer to the rail to hunker down behind a barrel. Footsteps drew closer and closer, though Enzo _tried_ to move quietly he was no better at it than a first-year cabin boy. They had pulled the gangplank up, so Enzo paused at the end of the dock, fairly stumped. The railing was chest-high on _him_ from there, so unless Enzo wanted to try _climbing_ he was stuck-

The idiot grumbled, and leapt to grab the edge of the banister.

“Okay, _that's_ enough.” he said, emerging from behind the barrel, “The hell are you doing?”

The smith froze, swallowing hard as moonlight gleamed off the sword leveled at his nose.

“I-” Enzo stammered, “I just-”

“You're ‘just’ going to turn around and go home. You have no right to be here.” he scowled.

“But-” 

“Leave, _now._ Unless you want to get dragged back there by Nightshade.” 

At his **prompting,** Shade hissed, leaning over the rail to glower down. Enzo seemed to reconsider the wisdom of whatever his fool plan was and staggered back down.

“I just- I wanted to see Cassian again.” the smith mumbled.

What? He shared a sidelong glance with Nightshade, equally baffled and incredulous.

“So you're just dropping by a stranger’s boat, in the middle of the night, to bother someone you _don't know?”_ he glared, and Enzo averted his eyes, “You're barking up the wrong tree kid, he’s not interested.”

“How would you-” Enzo snapped, then paused, “How would  _you_ know?” 

“Really? All that staring, and you didn't notice?” he snorted, “He’s married, so  _not_ interested.” 

“He wouldn't be the first forced to marry-” 

“Stop talking kid, you don't have a _clue_ who we are. And we are _trying_ to sleep.” 

Nightshade and Tyrian made a show of yawning, so wide their teeth flashed in the meager light. They seemed to get the point across, and the smith slunk back the way he came. Poor fool… he needed to be more careful about who he swooned after. **Be wary** he warned the flock, he may come back. Shade snorted, and all the dragons returned to their sleep, as did he. _Gods_ he was tired…

Luckily, Cassian still slept and he dreamed. As Eret settled back in his hammock, he caught glimpses of their first flight home, _himself_ laid back against Cass’s chest… Yeah, that was a good dream. Strange to see it through someone else’s eyes, but good…


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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Luckily, there were no more disturbances and they slept peacefully through the night, until Skullcrusher called for them to rise with the sun. He did have to nudge his husband a few times to get him out of bed, but a calm night of sweet dreams had done Cass a _world_ of good. They dressed fully for the day, got the bags organized on deck with Dad’s help, and from there the flock split. Lightning stayed behind for the sake of the ship, while Crush and Tyrian took them all back to the glass shop, and the rest scattered over the sea for breakfast.

“Alright, you boys get yourself something to eat, come back when you're done.” he patted Crush’s neck, then dropped to the ground to help his father do the same.

“Oof, _that_ won't be getting any easier.” Dad grunted, “Glad miss Pippin is so low-slung.”

“I'm sure _Gobber_ would agree.” he chuckled, “Go on you big beetle, I know you're hungry.”

Skullcrusher sighed forlornly. He could still smell the **kin-hatchlings** inside…

“Eh, they're probably still asleep, it's too early for a kid. We’ll see if we can get them up by the time you come back. Now get on, before everyone else gets all tuna.”

Crush rolled his eyes and trundled back downhill for a slow takeoff, and Tyrian followed with an **eager** cluck. But Cass looked weary again, almost sick…

“We’ll be back Cass, in time for, uh… What was it? The thing they wanted the wedding before.” he finally turned them towards the garden gate.

“Ramadan, a time of fasting and prayer. It's not that you can't have a wedding then, it's just not ideal timing and _when_ it's observed is based off the lunar calendar, so it's not a fixed date. Next year it should be a few weeks after Thawfest, so we'll have to head down around then.” Cass explained slowly.

“Oh. Sounds complicated.” he said.

“Yes, it really does seem so once you see a different way of life.” Cass shrugged, “I’m sure this wedding will be just as much a show as the rest. But, we could lay claim to making a veil, and a shirt for Affan. Silk and _green_ scales, that should excite Snotlout.”

“Maybe… but he wouldn't let them go if he couldn't be here to fit it all.”

“Damn, you're right.” Cass grimaced, “Well, maybe we can take him too.”

“Let's wait as long as possible to mention that, otherwise there’ll be no containing him over winter-”

A scent caught in the breeze, wafting through the house right to them. Warm bread and _cinnamon._

Cassian gasped, “Mama made _sweet rolls?”_

_“_ What kind of bread?” Dad asked, quiet but eager.

Cass ignored them and eased the door open to rush inside, leaving them to follow after a shared roll of the eyes. That smell was even stronger inside, warm and earthy-sweet along with the heady roasting dough and pungent tang of yeast at work. He had to lead Dad along to the kitchen, where Safiyah had laid out over the table to doze and Cassian hovered over their mother’s shoulder. He couldn't see what else was cooking, but he best save his husband from Nimat’s spoon.

“Give her some space _._ Who’s the limpet now?” he chuckled.

Cass pouted, “They’re _sweet rolls_ Eret, once you see them you'll understand.”

“Oh stop your tantrum and go warm the peaches.” Mama scolded, “And here, tuck these in the ashes.”

She shoved a basket of eggs into his hands and waved him towards the oven. Huh, well if she said so. He pressed the eggs in one by one where the ashes were deep and hot, but not _quite_ burning and singed his fingers a few times in the process, but it was done. Hopefully Nimat would know when they were ready, he sure didn't. Behind him, something sizzled and spiked the air with the scent of searing meat, _searing meat and hot iron._ Panic, old and primal set his heart hammering and his throat sealed shut-

 **I'm here.** Cassian’s voice came quickly, pulling him back to here and now.

 **Thank you.** He couldn't hide the tremors in his limbs as he set the basket down.

 **Here, this way.** Cass took him by the arm and led him away, deeper into the house.

He just needed to get away from the _smell_ and focused on breathing slow, shallow, until the air cleared and sound faded. Gods, _that_ hadn’t happened in a long time…

“Sorry… Wasn’t expecting that.” he mumbled, scratching where his skin _crawled,_ “Caught me-”

“Don't you apologize, not for this.” Cass said, tucking in close, “It's not your fault.”

Cassian’s hand stilled his where it clawed at his chest, gentle but firm, and he let out a shuddering breath. It didn't smell like a _nightmare_ here, just the faint perfume of wildflowers from his husband’s hair. He buried his nose in those long coils, breathing deep, slow, grounding himself in _this._ The brand still ached, but… he could brave the kitchen again. And he dared to steal a kiss, quick and quiet in the shadows. Oh, to be properly alone…

 **Let's get back** he sighed, carding his fingers through Cass’s hair.

**We can wait until she’s done.**

**No, it's okay. I wasn't ready, I'll be alright now.** He snuck another kiss, **I'm okay.**

Cass led him back, around corners he hadn’t even paid mind to and he felt so _huge_ in this house. The rooms and halls weren't meant for a man his size, he almost knocked into more than one doorframe and frankly that was more embarrassing than running off in a panic. Dad and Nimat stared as they entered, brows creased deep, and he spoke before anyone else could.

“It's nothing, just-” he swallowed hard, “War-wounds, the memories come back sometimes.”

Mama’s face dropped, “ _What?_ When did-” 

“Mom, it was a long time ago. I'm okay, really. All that just spooked me for a bit.” 

Her shoulders sagged, but a quick hug brought her spirits back. Mostly. Behind her, Dad remained quiet, eyes pained and _knowing._

“Dad, I mean it. I'll be fine.” he murmured, “Just came and went.”

“Come, what needs doing? Let's not leave anything to burn.” Cass gently took his mother by the hands.

The work resumed and Safiyah eventually woke up, though she wasn't too aware of the activity around her. Oh to be 19 again, sleeping the day away.

“Gonna need to perk up more than _that_ to fly.” he snickered, giving her a nudge.

She just groaned and scrubbed her eyes some more.

“I guess that runs in the family.” he turned to bother his husband instead.

“Does _not.”_ Cass pouted.

“Datura had to drag you out like a _kitten_ to meet that king!” 

Cass swatted him with the dishrag, and Mama threatened to swat them both.

“Children, the both of you.” she rolled her eyes, “Here, the eggs should be done, use the tongs.”

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckled.

The eggs went back in their basket to cool, he could dust the ash off in a bit and Cass dished up the steaming peaches in their rich spiced syrup. A plate of… well, he didn't know _what_ they were but Dad brought it to the table. It looked and smelled like meat, in long tubes.

“Sausages.” Cass explained, “Minced meat and spices, and some fennel. Usually they're cured, these are fresh.”

“Huh. How do you get it in?” he peered closer. Was it all stuffed in gut..?

“A funnel, with a long tube. I bet we can get something like that made, it's a good way to preserve meat over the winter. Stuff them, smoke them like salmon, then you can slice them thin to put in soups or rice dishes.” Cass smiled faintly. Must be another bit of home.

“Something to keep Gobber busy. And I'm sure he’ll need _help.”_ he snickered and nudged his father.

Dad flushed to the tips of his ears and kicked him under the table.

The sweet rolls were everything Cass promised and more, and that's what finally got Safiyah into the waking world. They ate quietly, and that silence was _heavy._ He almost didn't want to go, but this city was it's own sort of prison and it would kill them, slowly but surely.

“Crush and Tyrian should be back soon, once they've all eaten. We’ll go back to the ship to pack up, then we’ll be off.” he said, slow and somber. 

“We’ll plan to start back after the turn of spring. We could even swing by Cordoba to get Jarrah, Inara and the boys! And, Ghadir and her family too, if they aren't here by then. It wouldn't take but a few hours to get there and back.” Cass offered.

“Hmm… Stop _here_ first to catch up with us, before you go chasing geese in Cordoba. That _would_ be quite helpful though, a single day instead of a week on foot.” Nimat mused.

“And we wouldn't need to worry about trading, so we could bring a whole different flock. Big, strong dragons that could carry a few people _each_.” he added.

“Not _too_ big I hope.” Mama winced.

“No bigger than Skullcrusher! About as bulky, just not as long and still sweet as can be.” he insisted, “And we can have saddles ready for them.”

“Good, good…” she sighed, pushing the last few bites of food around her plate, “Safiyah, let's get your things. And, get you ready. They say it's cool up there...”

Safiyah wilted, and followed towards the back of the house. His heart ached for her, same as Cassian, and their hands found each other’s under the table.

“She’s got the both of us Cass, we’ll-”

Someone moved behind them, a mere whisper of cloth and a footstep betrayed their presence, and with that telltale prickle in his neck he just _knew_ it was Reza, before a glance back confirmed it. To hell with him, he could take that kicked-puppy look elsewhere. But Cass sighed, long and hard through his nose.

“What do you want?” his husband asked, so tired already but the fury had long left him.

The old man hesitated, and set a bundle down on the counter, as close to the doorway and as far from them as he could manage.

“These were meant for you, back… back before.” Reza mumbled, “I know nothing I say will change-”

“Stop. Just, _stop.”_ Cass glared at the table, “I don't want to hear all your self-pity. Maybe another year I'll have the sympathy and you’ll have the insight, but not now. I'm here for my mother, my brothers, their families and my  _sister,_ and they're why I'm coming back. Not you.” 

Reza nodded slowly, lips sealing tight, only choking out one more thing. “Don't  _ever_ give up on your happiness, even for al-Mariyah. It's- the world isn't ready, for the likes of us.” 

“We’ll see about that.” he finally piped up, “Didn't think anyone would be ready for dragons either.”

“Please, be safe…” Reza said as he slunk away.

He let Cass settle as the quiet returned, sneaking a peek back at the cloth package, more like a small satchel. It sounded like something metal shifting around in there, like _tools_ and those could be useful. Who knew what else they could make if they were better equipped?

“You care to take a look?” he asked after another moment.

Cass shrugged, “Later. It's probably just some old junk from the shop.”

“We’ll be home soon son.” Dad reached around to pat his shoulder.

***

Safiyah was ready all too soon and Mama packed up the remaining food for them to bring. Eret, bless him, took the back of whatever Reza thought might placate him and his sister’s last pack for good measure. Skullcrusher and Tyrian were on their way, so they would have to get going… They followed outside, silent as a funeral procession, and he fought to clear the lump from his throat.

“Mama-” he sniffed, and struggled to speak, “After the turn of spring, as  _soon_ as the weather let's us we’ll be here. I _swear_ it.” 

“You be _safe._ Getting home, coming back and- and everything in between. You be safe, you hear me?” she held him gently, eyes wet and shining, “You come  _back_ to me.” 

“I promise Mama, in spring-” 

“Wait! Wait-” someone shouted from the depths of the house.

He stiffened on reflex, but cleared that thought with a shake of his head. It was just Jarrah, fool… _Not_ just Jarrah. Zayd, Affan, Daniyah, Inara, and all the kids quickly scrambled out the front door, bleary and half-asleep but _here._

“Father woke me up.” Jarrah muttered, scrubbing one eye, “You're  _not_ leaving without one more goodbye.” 

“No, I'm not.” he managed to choke out.

Those goodbyes probably took too long, but he didn't care. He embraced each brother, sister-in-law, nephew and niece in turn, then his mother again for good measure. Eret and Father managed a few polite handshakes, and Skullcrusher arrived just in time to gently nuzzle all the children, almost knocking them over with his breath. Safiyah made the rounds last and now, they had to go. He could see the flock gathering, streaming towards the ship.

“Next spring.” he promised again, “And Jarrah, we may be able to pick you up in Cordoba.”

“Well, if I'm not here already, my house is near the west gate, by the blue-tiled mosque with a green roof. Can't miss it.” his brother said, blinking away more tears.

“We were going to stop here first and catch up with your plans." he said again, just in case, "But, good luck for your trip home, and stay safe.” 

The whole flight to the docks he didn't dare open his eyes, lest he look back. If he saw them watching, he might not be strong enough to leave. Safiyah was likely doing the same, judging by how her arms squeezed tighter and tighter around his middle. Tyrian could get them where they needed to go.

Some of the crew was already up and helped with the Sickle-Scales’ and Furies’ packs, while Father showed Safiyah how to do up the Wingweavers’ saddles. The sun was well on the rise when they finally took off, and Cassian allowed himself one moment of weakness. He twisted in the saddle to watch al-Mariyah shrink with every wingbeat, till it was finally lost behind the hills then he _kept_ watching until even the cape was gone. But now he had to look forward. At his **asking** the flock chimed they were fine, the loads were easy and the skies calm. Good. It was time to forge on with strong wings and clean eyes.

They took far more breaks for Safiyah’s sake but kept them short, enough to stretch their legs and slink behind the nearest bush or rock when needed. The miles melted away as they traced the coast, first 20, then 50, then 100, until Balansiyyah and it's bay were below them and the sun was tracking down. They needed to make camp, his poor sister was fit to drop.

 **How about there?** Eret coaxed his gaze to an island just off the shore.

 **_Perfect_ ** **my love.**

The flock turned as one, eager to settle in for the night. The island was quite tall for it's size, with steep cliffs that would spare them any visitors and covered with enough brush for a small fire. Quite nice really, wouldn't be a bad place to build a cabin if there was a fresh spring…

“Not a bad idea luv.” Eret smiled so sweetly, “You have _excellent_ taste.”

“Maybe in 30 years _we_ can retire here.” he chuckled, all too glad to settle down in the plush grass.

“Only if we bring about 30 dragons with us. Can't imagine a life without them.”

“Or we could just stay on Berk and save ourselves the trip. Now go help Father with the firewood dearest limpet.” he shoved Eret behind the knees.

“Alright, alright…” he ambled off.

Safiyah watched him go, rolling her eyes from the boneless pile she had collapsed into.

“You two are absolutely _smitten.”_ she scoffed, “Even worse than Affan and Ghadir.”

“Well I should _hope_ so, I married him.” he rolled his eyes right back, “But, you're feeling alright? Not too sore? We can start later tomorrow if you need more rest.”

“It's not _so_ bad, I've had moon-cramps miles worse. I just need to stretch some more before bed, and on breaks.” she yawned, and Gold-Clouds yawned with her.

All the dragons had crowded close, weary but not at all exhausted. They were just as enamored with the view as he was, and Tyrian shuffled closer to tuck against his back. **Good** the Nadder clucked, but **not-home** . Nightshade chuffed a gentle **agreement.**

“Yes, I know. We aren't staying here.” he scratch Tyrian’s flank.

 **Kin** Datura sighed, flicking through her siblings’ names, **lonely, miss them…**

 **Soon** Lantana purred, tucking Datura under her wing, **soon…**

 **Soon** he agreed, and now there’s **more kin.**

 **Kin!** Datura chimed more brightly, scrambling over to jam herself under Safiyah and rolled her over her back. His sister squawked and nearly tumbled off the dragon’s other shoulder, clawing for purchase and finally froze like a startled cat. She eventually righted herself and swatted at Datura’s ear-flaps.

“You can't just _do_ that.” she huffed, then mockingly mimicked the Fury’s whine of annoyance.

“Hoo, you think there are _any_ boys on Berk that could handle her?” Father chortled, emerging from the brush.

“I hope so, for everyone’s sake.” Eret followed close behind.

Safiyah glowered, “You won't be able to north-talk in secret  _forever_ brother dearest.” 

“Well there's gonna be plenty of time for you to learn while we camp, and over winter.” Eret chuckled, “And maybe  _you_ can teach me all the good curses. Cass promised to, but he’s a dirty liar.” 

“For _shame_ Cassy!” Safiyah gasped, rolling off Datura’s back.

“Oh _enough_ about the curses already.” he scoffed, “Now do you want to know about all our dragons or not? There are many to cover.”

“Yes! Yes, wait let me get my blanket-” she scuttled around the Fury’s paws to get at her bag, “Oh, and can you do my hair?  _No one_ could braid it like you Cassy.” 

“Flatterer.” he grumbled,  _“Fine,_ get your combs and oil.” 

She giggled, gathering her things to dump them in his lap before taking a seat.

“Alright, low braids or loose?” he asked, unwinding her silk wrap.

“Those _thick_ twists like auntie Dalal used to wear!” 

“Oh those… might take me a minute to remember how. Now, what do you want to hear about first?” 

“You said there was one that set itself on _fire?”_ she half-turned back, until he forced her to look forward again.

“Yes, the Nightmare. They can be a bit… _willful,_ but they're loyal in equal measure and come in all sorts of beautiful colors. They have legs and two wings like Tyrian, but they're so big they have to crawl on all fours, and they have these big ridged horns like an antelope. Funnily enough, they _like_ being wrestled until their horns are pinned to the ground, they just relax like a kitten caught by the scruff. And Snotlout’s paired with a great crimson Nightmare, named Hookfang…” 

On and on he spoke as he slowly combed Safiyah’s hair out. It had gotten so _long._ Eret helped a little, holding sections away while he parted, combed, and parted again, twisting strands in pairs after dabbing a few drops of oil on his hands. The longest braids nearly reached her elbows once he rolled the ends together, she would be _stunning._ She always was of course, she was his _sister,_ but Berk wouldn't be the least bit prepared for the sight. He finally finished by the time the fire dwindled to embers and his voice threatened to give out. _Gods_ he had missed this…

“All done.” he sighed, passing her wrap back, “Now, time for bed. We start again at dawn.”

Safiyah just yawned again, shuffling back to Gold-Clouds while Eret wrangled him over to Skullcrusher. They fell asleep quickly, twined tight, heart to heart, beats in perfect sync… **I love you** rolled back and forth as long as they were aware enough to think it. 

He didn't stay asleep for long. A **spark** invaded his dreams, a _nice_ dream too, probing and **curious** and **strange,** so invasive it knocked him awake before any of the flock. That spark was a _new_ dragon, it had to be, so he dared to extend a soft **greeting.** The spark rippled with **shock** and **alarm** , retreating out of their circle then deeper into the island. **Wait!** He begged, **wait,** we’re **friends!** He gave Eret a few nudges, but didn't wait for him to wake before giving chase. By shear luck the moon hung high and bright, and there were no thorns to tread on as he followed the spark through the brush. The dragon didn't make a sound somehow, and it wasn't running properly, staying just out of sight-

It was _leading_ him, away from his flock.

Cassian skidded to a stop and ducked behind a bedraggled tree, forcing a slow breath before **calling** to the stranger again. **Friends** he insisted, we are **kin.** The spark stopped and slowly inched back his way. **Kin?** It thrummed, **kin who? Kin how?** He **showed** the stranger, Foxglove and Datura and Tyrian and Nightshade, _everyone_ here and on Berk, their bonds and **love,** his pack claiming his family as **kin** in turn-

A breath washed over his face, hot and smoky as only a dragon could manage. The details were lost in the dark but it was _huge,_ easily a match for a Stormcutter or Wingweaver. Though, it only had one pair of wings and an _almost_ Nadder-like head, minus the nose horn and crown of spikes. It sniffed more deeply, rumbling low as it considered him and he kept perfectly still, radiating **calm. Where?** it pressed, **from where?** Once more he **showed** Berk, where they had started and where they were going home to, Berk with all it's dragons running **free.** The dragon seemed enthralled, wanting to see **more,** and he dared to offer his hand to the beast. It shifted, moved to meet him, and past it's massive head, on it's neck he just barely glimpsed-

Was that a _saddle?_

Sensing his prickle of **alarm,** the dragon chirped **question.** A **rider** he pressed, **pack, kin, question-**

The dragon heard the rustle in the brush first, off to the left, and that was all the warning he would get. _This_ was a human, and they knew they were caught. The figure crashed through the cover and lunged, swinging wildly as something on their face glinted gold. Whoever this was, they were _big_ but not particularly skilled, it was easy to duck away from the charge, slip behind the dragon’s wing and hunker down in the shadows. At least the dragon seemed more **amused** than anything.

“Coward!” the fig- a _woman?_ hissed, “Can't fight like a man?”

“What do we need to fight for?” he shot back, “Unless  _you're_ a dragon trapper, we aren't enemies.” 

The woman stopped in a shaft of moonlight to look around, and she _had_ to be as tall as Valka, brandishing a makeshift club.

“You have them in nets and _chains.”_ she growled, and gold glinted where her left eye should've been.

Indignation sparked in his blood, “Those are  _packs,_ we were trading in al-Mariyah! How about you withhold judgement until _daylight._ The dragons can show you how wrong you are.” 

She snarled, ready to storm forward again when her dragon’s tail swung about to block her way. It chuffed imploringly and he could **feel** his own memories running through it's head- to _her._ They seemed to realize this at the same moment and locked eyes, testing, challenging… Foxglove, the old memory of her that first night flickered by and the woman softened.

“Fine.” she muttered, “At first light I  _will_ see.” 

“So be it. Now if you'll _excuse_ me, I'll be going back to sleep.” 

The whole walk back, his mind reeled. A new dragon, and a _rider?_ Her Andalusi had a southern accent so she was from here, she had to be, _and_ she was a dragonspeaker. He _knew_ he couldn't be the only one, in Europa at least. That dragon’s spark followed him at a distance, which he figured would happen, but none of their flock had roused. Even _Eret_ was still asleep. That may be for the best, they needed a good long rest for what was to come. He crawled back under Skullcrusher’s wing, tucked himself against Eret’s broad chest, and was back to dreaming within minutes.

The **spark** intruded again. He _knew_ it was dawn, but he still swatted the probing **interest** away with a snap of **annoyance.** Eret was so warm, and that weight over him was a comfort like no other. He was going to _savor_ this a moment more. The **questions** and **curiosity** got more insistent and he grumbled, **relenting**. He forced himself upright and out of the wing-tent, still grousing as he stretched and shook his hair out. The strangers lingered at the fringes of the camp and his heart skipped a beat. With the light, he could see this dragon was straight out of his childhood stories. The birdlike head, long neck, compact torso and _huge_ wings, all with a wild variety of colors and patterns. Perhaps _30._

“The _Simurgh.”_ he said, almost a gasp as his jaw dropped.

The woman sat on it's back, ignoring him to scan the still-sleeping flock. As he promised, the light of day revealed the truth. No nets, no chains, just packs and chests scattered around and dragons sleeping peacefully. Foxglove lay snuggled up between Tyrian and Nightshade, Datura flopped over Lantana, the Reapers had tangled in a pile and the Wingweavers sweetly coiled together, all breathing deep and slow, eyelids fluttering as they dreamed. The woman finally seemed to acquiesce, just as Foxglove roused. Her head lifted high as she yawned, tusks flicking out and back in as her jaw flexed. At his **call** she lurched to her feet and slogged over, eyes barely open as she mashed her face into his chest and purred.

“This is Foxglove, and she is as a daughter to me.” he said, just loud enough to hear, “The people of Berk don't whip and chain their dragons, we’ve never  _needed_ to.” 

Fox chirped her **confusion,** looking to him just as the Simurgh rumbled a sweet **hello.** She barked in **alarm,** springing straight up and freezing where she landed, arching sharp with her stinger at the ready. More of the flock roused, hissing an echo of **alarm** and **caution** as they noted the strangers. **Easy** he waved them down, **easy,** they are **friends.** Lantana still nudged her daughter behind her and Skullcrusher hunkered low over Eret. Still asleep, of course. 

“We’re _traders,_ as I told you, and we’re going home.” he said firmly, “Me, my sister, my father-”

He hesitated, but some nagging _feeling_ told him it was safe to add, “-and my husband.”

The woman startled so badly she almost fell off the Simurgh’s back. The dragon caught her over a wing-claw and gently lowered her to the ground where she staggered, lone eye wide as a saucer.

_“What?”_ she gasped, so weak with disbelief as she dared a few steps closer, “You must jest, you can't-”

“Not here no. But on Berk we _can,_ and we did.” 

With all the awe and heartbroken old hope that was plain to see, he could make an educated guess about this woman’s past. They might not be so different, escaping the life dictated to them. She couldn't be much younger than Valka either, judging by the faint wrinkles and threads of silver hair over her false gilded eye. It almost looked like there was a _design_ on it too, like a sun. She had a certain fierce, hard-edged beauty in strong and sharp Byzantine features framed by wavy black hair, cropped short. Certainly not a face he would find objectionable, if he were so inclined.

 _“The dragon_ _island?”_ she asked,  _“That_ is Berk?” 

“Yes, far to the north of Angleland. It's another eight or so days flight over Normandy, along the coast…” he waved in that direction, “We do need to get ready, our flock will be heading out to hunt once they’re up.”

 **Hungry** Foxglove chimed, yawning again.

“I know dearest.” he scratched down her neck, “You can go eat, I'll be fine.”

It looked like this lady needed a moment to collect herself, so he soothed his flock and shooed them off, but Skullcrusher and the Wingweavers stayed for the sake of their riders. How were they _still_ asleep? Safiyah he could understand but Eret had no excuse, especially not with all the grief he'd been given. He had to nudge Crush aside to get enough space, and it took far too long to nudge his husband awake. He was still drowsy and pliant, nuzzling so nicely into his neck, kissing his pulse- **My love, we have company. Though I do appreciate the effort.**

“Company..?” Eret mumbled.

The Simurgh hooted a **greeting** and Eret shot upright, nearly falling backwards over himself.

 _“That_ company dear.” he cracked a smile, and kissed Eret’s cheek, “And it seems… she’s like us.”

“Well, I should hope so if she's made a saddle and everything.” Eret grumbled, rolling his shoulders.

 _“...besides_ being a rider love.” he stared more pointedly, brows inching upwards.

Slowly, it clicked. Bless him.

“How do you know? That's not exactly an opener for a conversation.” he snuck a glance over.

“I had a feeling, a hunch, and I was honest about who I was traveling with.” he shrugged, “And her reaction was telling. She must've left, like I did.”

There was quiet for a time as he thought and Eret stretched. They should be getting Father and Safiyah up, readying for the day… But this woman, she was _like them_ and seemed to be all alone, save the Simurgh. That was no way to live. And if she had left in her youth, she could have been roving for decades like Valka. 

“Maybe…” he mused, “She belongs on Berk too, if her dragon could weather it.”

“We should invite her as far as Montpellier first, just in case.” Eret cautioned.

“True. Let's get everyone up. And Crush, I _know_ you're hungry. Go, eat.” he shooed the dragon off.

The Rumblehorn sighed, but trundled off to dive over the cliff edge and with some more coaxing, the Wingweavers followed. Now exposed to the growing sunlight, Father groaned and Safiyah burrowed deeper into her blanket-nest. _This_ was going to be a fight worthy of a saga…

 _“I'll_ handle Saffy.” he sighed, “Father looks to be managing on his own.”

“‘Szzit dawn already?” Father muttered, rubbing his eyes, “Thor almighty…”

 _“Yes_ Dad. C’mon, the beasties are off getting breakfast.” Eret chuckled, stooping to get their blankets.

“I'm goin’, I'm go-” Father sat up and choked as the stranger peeked out from her dragon’s wings.

“They're alright, it's fine.” he said quickly, “A bit of a surprise, but they're allies.”

Father still gawped, _“Freya,_ if I hadn’t already had my heart set-”

“Dad!” Eret squawked.

 _“Lookit_ her, she's a proper Valkyrie!” their father blurted in a strained whisper.

“And she has no interest in _men.”_ he shook his head.

“See? Problem solved. Now, where did you put those peaches-”

By the time the dragons returned, they were ready to load up and set off once more and Cassian was keenly aware of the woman watching them all, but _especially_ him. It was now or never.

“We’re aiming to get to Montpellier by tonight, the people there are kind. You're welcome to come with us.” he offered.

The woman considered a moment, but with the Simurgh’s coaxing, she nodded.

“We’re almost ready to leave, did you need to pick up any belongings?” he asked.

“No. I carry all I need with me.” she said, rising slowly to her feet.

Ah, there did seem to be a bit of a pack built into her sparse saddle, with a bedroll on top.

“The packing will just be a moment, but-” he took those last steps closer and offered his hand, “I am Cassian, Eretsson.”

“Vega.” she replied, shaking once,  _“Just_ Vega. And this is Simurgh.” 

“Well, it seems we had the same thought about him. All those stories…” he chuckled.

“I don't think they're _all_ stories.” Vega said, “There are many dragons that live on in myth, I'm sure of it. Typhon, Apophis, Ammut, Scylla… and I don't believe they're all gone.”

Tyrian crept closer, half-hiding behind him as he sniffed, and chuffed a confused **kin?** Simurgh considered, but had to reply **not-kin, almost** but **not-kin.** He humored the Nadder though, and returned the offered greeting-flutter of wings. 

***

They made fine time, even with this lady Vega coming along. And her dragon, _damn_ was he big. His wingspan was equal to Cloudjumper’s without a doubt, but he might’ve been shorter nose to tail. And his name was hard to say, _Seem-urgh,_ too soft and it sounded more like clearing his throat. Cass insisted it was something significant though, so he kept his commentary to himself. After yet another glance back, he was relieved to see Safiyah and Dad were still doing just fine, thanks to the Wingweaver’s smooth flying. They took frequent breaks again but with as far as they had come, that was no problem. He was just glad to be going _home,_ Skullcrusher too.

Past midday, they stopped for lunch on a nice little island off the coast. The dragons relaxed, they dug out the most perishable foods to finish up, and just _enjoyed_ the warm sun. Vega still kept her distance and from what he could see, she didn't have anything to eat. Couldn't hurt to make friends. He found the last peach and a packet of herbed almonds, and only approached with Simurgh’s bright **greeting.** Vega looked up slowly, cautious and evaluating, so like _Valka_ it gave him chickenskin.

“We’ve got plenty of food, no need to go hungry.” he said offering what he had brought.

After a moment’s hesitation, she accepted both and took a bite of the peach once Simurgh sniffed it.

“Those are alright, the fruit back home is better.” he said casually, "Ah, don't know your word for it, we call them  _apples._ Cassian makes the most _amazing_ things with them.” 

_“Apples.”_ she repeated, almost testing the word, “Your northern tongue is… rough. I've never heard it's like, not down here.  _Occitan_ is strange in it's own way, but not _that_ strange.” 

“Well, I could day the same about Andalusi and that's my _third_ language.” he quipped.

Vega blinked slowly. “You only speak three?”

“Uh- yes?” he shrugged, “It took months to get this much-  _far_.” 

The woman only looked _more_ befuddled, but why?

“I've learned as many as I could find, it only took a month or two each.” she scratched under her false eye, “I thought  _everyone_ could do that.” 

“Maybe some can? It seems you have a gift for it, a damn useful one.” he offered, “I'm almost jealous. We need to teach Safiyah Norse, but I've never had to do that before. Don't know where to start.”

Vega went quiet for a moment, taking a few more bites of her peach while Simurgh leaned over to sniff at his hair. _Thor_ he was big, his skull alone was near as long as he was tall. But the dragon was keenly aware of his size, so _careful_ in his movements. **Hello** he greeted, offering a hand and the dragon thrummed in **delight.** Simurgh’s colors were like nothing he had ever seen, a rich base of browns and blacks and golds covered in a rainbow of spots, stripes and rosettes.

“You are _beautiful_ old boy-”

Skullcrusher snorted **offense,** jerking up from his nap to glower.

“Really? Crush, you _know_ you're the only beastie for me, stop being a baby.” he scoffed.

When he turned back, Vega stared openly, looking almost lost.

_“You_ are a speaker too?” she asked.

“Yeah, that surprised me just as much when I found out. The chief of Berk and his mother can do it too. I think you would get along with Valka, if you don't mind my saying.” he shifted uneasily, “She spent 20 years living with dragons in the wild, with her partner Cloudjumper.”

At Simurgh’s prodding, he let a few memories of the two roll by; flying together for fun and for war, moving perfectly as one in a way he finally understood. The dragon hummed, and seemed to relay it all to Vega who went _slack_ with awe.

“She is like _us?”_ her voice was so small, almost hopeful.

He winced, “I… don't think so, not  _that_ way. She didn't leave, she was _taken_ from her husband and son, and she loved them both. But she does understand dragons like we do, so… there's that.” 

Vega nodded minutely, brows creasing with something like disappointment. Damn… It was hard enough for them when they could move freely through the world, a lady like Vega wouldn't _have_ that luxury, not in Europa. And… that wasn't fair, for so many reasons. Simurgh sighed deep, nuzzling into her hair.

By late afternoon, they came upon Montpellier and when he closed his eyes, the sea and hills below them were _filled_ with sparks. Some he knew as Oceanstars and Deeptreaders, maybe even the same ones they met before the Wingweavers, but there were _new_ sparks with them.

**Cass! Down below!**

**I know, I see them! There's the old camp, let's unload-**

There wasn't enough room for all the dragons at once, so Gold-Clouds and the Reapers dropped off their loads first, then winged away to clear space for the rest. The Sickle-Scales’ and Furies’ bags came off next, and they were now free to explore. But if there were new dragons, _he_ wanted to see-

“My thoughts exactly love.” Cass chuckled, retrieving his journal.

“You can relax Safiyah, we’re just going down to the shore.” he said.

Their sister just groaned, already laid out over her bags.

“I'll stay with her, you go have fun.” Dad shook his head fondly.

“Maybe we can pay a visit to the ben-Levi’s” he thought aloud.

“Of course, and get some more food.” Cass agreed, slipping some coins into his pocket.

“This is Normandy, yes?” Vega asked from up the hill.

“I… think so? We know at least one family speaks Andalusi, and they're welcoming to dragons. Though…” Cass winced apologetically, “Simurgh is a  _bit_ too big for the streets.” 

Vega shrugged, “I am used to such things, but… at least that is the only reason.”

“There are dragons below, we’re going to check on them. You're welcome to come with us.” he offered.

An eager, youthful spark rose in her lone brown eye, and he could swear the gold of the other shone brighter. Skullcrusher was already settled in and he didn't have the heart to drag the old boy back out, but Oleander was quick to offer her back in his stead.

“Alright, alright keep still a minute.” he chuckled, wrangling the dragon closer.

The Reapers weren't too far off from the Light Furies in size, just about as broad across the shoulders but narrower at the neck. **Go slow** he warned, **be gentle.** Oleander grumbled, but did take off leisurely after Tyrian and Simurgh and in the air, he and his husband **called.** The effort left his head spinning, but dozens of sparks **answered,** rushing to meet them at the coast.

10 Deeptreaders, _15_ Oceanstars, and two dozen more they had never seen milled up and down the shoreline, radiating **joy** and **contentment.** The two they'd already met stayed close to tell their story, of traveling east and meandering, **calling** for others and _finding_ them. Here, the two-legs-on-trees were _happy_ to see them, so they helped gather fish into their nets, and the two-legs rewarded them! With fish, with scratches, and _little_ two-legs came to swim and play! **Agreement** rose in waves from the dragons as they gathered close to watch, this place was **good** and **safe,** they weren't **lonely** anymore. Some even found **mates** for the first time! Cassian sniffled, but these were finally tears of joy. Eret pulled him closer to kiss his brow.

“There's still _hope_ Cass.” he murmured, _“Look_ at them all.”

Cassian could only nod, scrubbing his cheeks dry and smearing not-charcoal all over for his efforts. As nice as this was, the sun was well on it's way down. If they wanted food, they needed to get going.

“We can play some more in the morning, let's get to the city before they close the gate.”

It took a long while to bid their **goodbyes,** and the wild flock only let them go with a promise to return. The lead Oceanstar and Deeptreader corralled them with their tails for a gentle nuzzle, thrumming their **thanks** so deeply water danced around their flanks.

“It was nothing…” he patted the dragon’s jaw, “Just doing what’s right.”

“We’ll be back.” Cass promised again, “You go rest now.”

They were cutting it close, food first then visit. Simurgh parked himself close to the gate while Tyrian led his daughter along with careful, **polite** restraint. Good, they were learning. But as they wove through the streets, following the scent of food and people _recognized_ them. Some just gawped, some waved, and _kids_ stared in awe… wait. With all these dragons, they should leave these people informed, as much for the dragon’s safety as their own.

“We _are_ a day ahead.” he gave Cass a nudge, “Think we should stay? Make sure they’ll get along.”

Cassian frowned and thought hard, before sighing, “Maybe we could start a _little_ later. I don't want to risk bad weather, or string Safiyah and Father along more than we have to.”

“No, that's fair.” he agreed, scanning the streets.

Huh, that one there was where the Levi’s lived, better keep that in mind. Wait. _The Levis._

He smacked Cass’s shoulder, “The Levis, I bet they know everyone! Or, a lot of people, _enough._ We don't have to teach the whole city, just a few people. Enough so they can keep the work going themselves.”

“No, that's- that's _perfect._ They would know who to call on, so _we_ don't have to run all over the city. That could save hours!And, we need to make sure there are fishermen there too.” Cass agreed.

“Good plan! But, dinner first, I'm starving.”

“When are you _not?”_

A few loaves of bread, chunks of cheese, and the better part of a joint of beef got bundled into a wide cloth napkin. More like half a tablecloth really. But they could eat later, couldn't be imposing on the Levis _too_ late. Those manners were pretty universal, and he remembered the way well enough to lead them. All this time Vega remained silent, but vigilant. Good, she would be a _natural_ on Berk- No, no that was thinking too far ahead.

There was the house, and a few lights flickered inside. Perfect, someone was home. Now, what to do… knock on the door, check the garden? Vega shoved between them, marching right to the front door to rap her knuckles politely under the wrought-iron knocker. There was shuffling inside, the latch rattled and the great wooden slab swung inward.

“Isaac!” Cass sagged with relief.

The boy gawped for a long moment, until Zerahiah nudged him aside.

“Oh, the traders of Berk! It seems al-Mariyah treated you well.” the gentleman chuckled.

“It has! But I have a favor to ask.” Cass said,  _“Partly_ a favor, more like a partnership. So many dragons have taken up residence in the bay, we want to be sure everyone gets along before we keep on flying. If a few people from town, especially some fishermen could meet us at the shore tomorrow, we can teach you what we know. What it _takes_ to live alongside dragons. Not that anyone’s done anything wrong of course, the flock are as happy as I've ever seen.” 

Abraham had joined his brother and more lingered just out of sight, curious and eager.

“Obviously we can't teach the whole city in a few hours.” Cassian continued, “So, we want to leave as many as we can with the skills to pass on in turn. It  _is_ a lot to ask on such short notice, I understand if this would be a chore-” 

“No, that's perfect! Word on the street is, Lord William is a _touch_ nervous about all this activity, more of the gentry too I’d imagine. It would do well to see what must be done.” Abraham insisted, but then leaned closer, “I don't suppose you'd mind some of the children coming by? I  _know_ they've been sneaking down there already, but…” 

“Not at all! In fact, I insist!” Cass’s smile dropped a fraction as he turned more serious, “Dragons may not be vicious, but their patience isn't  _endless_. And, accidents can still happen. It's the same as any other animal, children need to learn how to keep themselves safe. It's for everyone’s benefit.” 

So, the plan was set. The brothers-Levi needed to call on a whole host of in-laws and friends-of-friends, so they made their escape back to camp. Poor Safiyah hadn’t moved an inch and had to be coaxed up to eat by Lantana and Gold-Clouds _and_ Cassian.

“We’re not leaving right away tomorrow, so you can sleep in.” he gave her a little nudge.

“Good.” she huffed, stretching out her aches, “I take it back, this is  _worse_ than moon-cramps.” 

“Worse than _what_?” he dared to look.

Safiyah and Vega both stared, aghast and bewildered, glancing to each other than back to him.

“Uh. Oh.” he stammered, “Oh. It's one of those lady things. Right.”

“‘Lady things’?” Safiyah snarked, raising an incredulous brow.

“I grew up on a _boat_ okay? I didn't really live around any women until Berk _.”_ he shifted, fully red in the face, “With no mother, no sisters, you don't learn that sort of thing either.”

He imagined their faces had turned at least a little sympathetic, but didn't care to look.

“Oh…” Safiyah muttered.

“It's… that's just how it is. Can't change the past.” he sighed long and low, “Let's get some sleep, we have to play teacher tomorrow.”

Cass just _knew,_ of course he did, by the time they nestled together under Skullcrusher’s wing. He was… _jealous,_ just a little, now that he had seen the family Cass grew up with. And now that the dust settled, he could see where that longing for a family of his own came from. It made _sense_ now, but didn't hurt any less.

“Let's get some sleep luv… Long day tomorrow.”

“Eret?”

“Just… been thinking.” he murmured against Cass’s throat, “I understand a little better, where you’re coming from. In so many ways.”

Cassian said nothing, but cradled him closer to kiss his brow, stroke his hair, murmur sweet words of love like a prayer…

At least there was no rush at the first blush of dawn. They could wake slowly before the dragons took off at their own leisure to join the others that still lingered close to shore. There should be plenty to hunt after all, and more than enough time to do so. In between, they got ready for the day and cleaned up as best they could. He missed those bathhouses already, and getting _spoiled_ out in al-Mariyah made it that much tougher to camp rough again. But, the bags would be safe up in this little hollow, so he and Cass got their notebooks and all five of them hitched a ride to the beach when a few of the flock checked in. The tide was low, baring a great swathe of shore and Safiyah kicked off her slippers to run through the shallow pools left behind, and Cass was quick to follow. That _feeling_ hit again, the vague sense of… loss. 

A few Oceanstars were waiting already, and Deeptreaders, and more of the five new species arrived from the open sea. One was tall, lanky and bright, rather like a Windwolf save for the long horn on it's nose, straight as a spear, and another was quite like a Hobblegrunt with big webbed feet, but no little forelegs. A trio matched the Oceanstars in size, with four wings, huge hip-fins _and_ tail rudders spread out over their long bodies, big blocky heads and smooth branched horns. There were a few more shaped like a Fury, longer and stockier with wings like a kite and crescent cheek-horns like a Changewing, but the most numerous of the new dragons were the smallest. Pretty cute too, with their little fox faces and giant ear-flaps. Those wee-beasties _swarmed_ Safiyah, raucous as songbirds in their eagerness and **adoration.** One in particular, all rose, gold and cream fought hard to drape over her shoulders and nap. He barely had the time to laugh before another curious snout almost knocked him flat, one of the big ones with all the wings. She chirped so sweetly, **curious** and **enamored.**

_“Careful_ sweet girl, I'm more top-heavy than most!” he chuckled, giving her a good scratch, “Aren't you lovely, lookit those blues… What should we call you then?”

Dragons always seemed to _know_ what names were, and this one **showed** him: a spiraling school of fish, glinting and shimmering just under the waves. Hmm, a tricky one…

“I'll just have to call you Silverfish, if you’ll forgive clumsy human words.” he hummed, “Old sailors say there's a god for every point of the compass, manning the gates that hold the world’s wind. And it looks like _you've_ got a wing for each. ‘Eight Winds’... better than _Shadowwing_ at least.”

He snorted, and Silverfish cooed a **question.**

“Ah, nothing to worry about. I hope all of you are ready, we’re gonna make sure all those people up there know how to get along with you. I know it's been nice so far, but we need to be _sure.”_ he sighed, and gave the dragon another pat, “So, best behavior yeah? Let's show them what you really are.”

The sun was well on the rise now, they should expect their students soon. Some were sure to speak Andalusi, but the rest… wait. Vega had all those languages in her head, after watching like a hawk she must've heard _something_ she knew. He found her behind the coils of an Oceanstar, picking off barnacles with a dozen of the little flappers doing the same.

“Ah, excuse me, miss Vega-” he vaulted over the dragon’s tail.

“Vega is fine.” she said coolly.

“Right, Vega…” he cleared his throat, “Last night, around town, did you hear anything you know? Languages I mean. I don't think they’ll all speak Andalusi, we might need to split them up.”

“Occitan seems most common. I... will have to help.” she frowned.

“...not fond of crowds?” he dared to ask.

She shook her head, “Speaking got me  _this,_ courtesy of my husband.” 

Vega gestured to her false eye, and his stomach plummeted. What- who would _dare?_

“I didn't even last his customary year.” she sneered, “I'm just lucky I escaped before he could kill me like the rest of those poor girls. Not that he could’ve  _reached_ with his fat little-” 

He must've looked every bit as dumbstruck as he felt and Vega stopped short.

“What?” she prodded.

“Was his name Lorenzo, Lorenzo  _ something?” _he blurted.

Now it was her turn to go doe-eyed.  _“How_ do you know that name?” 

“Unless I'm dreaming, that's the very same man Safiyah was almost betrothed to.” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “If it makes you feel any better, he was arrested a few days ago in al-Mariyah. Something about selling oil with pig fat in? Must be a big deal, to bring the guards running.”

Vega laughed sharply, at once bitter and _victorious_ until some of the small dragons scattered.

“That _idiot!_ Oh, he's never going to see the light of day again!” she cackled, “I couldn't have come up with something more fitting in  _another_ 20 years!” 

“Why _pig_ fat though? Mutton has more, or that ‘beef’...” 

_“_ Spite is why. Pork is _haram,_ unclean and forbidden. He wanted to cause harm to those people, he _delights_ in it.” 

“Well, at least they found out before he could sell any.” he offered, “And, now he's gone. He can't hurt anyone anymore-”

Vega’s glare leveled hard, “So why is the girl with  _you_ then, and not her mother?” 

“Hey! _No one_ talks to my brothers like that!” Safiyah shouted, scrambling up and over the Oceanstar.

She straightened her skirts then marched over, forcing her way between them.

“I _wanted_ to go!” she huffed, “If my father could make a betrothal like that once, he would do it  _again._ Berk isn't like that, I can choose my future, husband or no husband! And there they have dragons, I _want_ to see this. So back off!” 

Slowly, Vega relented under Safiyah’s unyielding resolve, defrosting inch by inch until Safiyah softened too, and dared to take Vega’s hands in hers.

_“You_ were one of his wives?” she asked, so suddenly meek, “How did you escape?”

“As soon as a doctor saw to my eye, I packed what I could and escaped. Kicked out his half-rotten shutters, climbed down a trellis and got out of Balansiyyah.” Vega drew a shuddering breath, “I found Simurgh later, in a cave. His foot was broken, so I helped as much as I could while he healed and it was like he  _knew_ me. We’ve been together ever since.” 

Safiyah sniffled and _threw_ her arms around Vega, hugging tight and forcing the taller woman to catch her. Vega went wide-eyed in shock, but melted a heartbeat later and patted Saffy’s back. Before Eret could say a word, or even excuse himself, one of the smaller dragons hooted and grabbed at him from the Oceanstar’s back. He relented, offering his arm for the beastie to clamber over. Quite a lovely shade of green it was…

“I'm coming with you.” 

He jumped and fumbled the dragon a few times before clutching it to his shoulder. Vega stared hard over Safiyah’s head, burning and resolute. He chuckled, which she didn't seem to expect.

“We were hoping you'd ask.” he cracked a satisfied smile.

“Alright, they're coming!” he called, and the dragons roused from the sand.

“Okay…” Cass hummed, thinking hard, “Think you can handle the Andalusi? We’ll need to split them up once they get here. And, these Flutterkites will be _perfect_ for the young ones.”

“Yeah, I'll manage. Just covering the basics, easy stuff.” he shrugged, ignoring a pluck of nerves.

Cass gave him one of _those_ looks, and he sighed.

“Just not good with crowds luv, all that public speaking is what _Hiccup’s_ used to. I'll be fine.” he assured.

“You _are_ a captain, now as always.” Cass murmured, edging as close as he dared, “You know what to do.”

 _Damnit,_ this man. At his **request,** Skullcrusher and Lantana darted close, shielding them from sight on all sides with their wings _just_ long enough to steal a kiss, searing and deep that Cass rolled into, groaning so needily into his mouth. Gods, what a pretty sound, how he had _missed_ it. But there was work to be done. They parted after another gentle kiss, and made a show of stumbling away, falling against their dragons as the wall of wings dropped. Just in case. They were still close enough to be seen after all.

“It’d be nice to sneak off tonight, if we’re able.” **gods I want you,** “Especially if it's a clear night.”

He could **feel** Cassian’s pulse rising, “We’ll have to see my love, it will be a long day.”

“I can't understand a word and I _know_ you're being gross.” 

They both started and Cass fell ass-over-teakettle in the sand. Safiyah cackled from her perch on Lantana’s shoulders, but at least _she_ fell too, the little imp.

Almost here, almost, a huge throng of people filed down the path to the docks.

“Hey Dad, think you can help wrangle?” he leaned over an Eight Wind’s back, “Make sure nobody gets flattened, that kinda thing. _Just_ in case.”

“Of course! I've still got a _little_ muscle left in me.” Dad chuckled, “So, as an _official_ Berkian do I get a go with a name? Thought of something for these big-wingy fellows.”

“Yeah, go ahead! We’ve only managed four of them.” his grin left his cheeks aching.

“By-the-Wind-Sailors they'll be then!” Dad laughed, catching a Sailor’s **ecstatic** headbutt.

“Wait, you're _naming_ them?” Safiyah piped up.

“Yeah? Someone has to, for all these records.” he shrugged.

“Well, I get a turn too!” she looked to one of the tall, lanky dragons, “Uh. Sword… Snout?”

“It's more like a spear.” Vega actually _smiled,_ how sweet.

“Nah, that's dumb.” she rolled her eyes.

“I would call _these_ Wave Skippers.” Vega turned back to her sunrise-colored beast, tickling it's frill.

“There, one for everybody. Now, let's get these neophytes educated.” he clapped his hands.

It had to be 50 people at least in the crowd, and near _half_ were children, from 5-year-olds on their father’s shoulders to kids on the cusp of adulthood. But another dozen lingered behind the main group and he knew their look by now. Armor, weapons, finery, this was someone important. Maybe that ‘Lord William’ Abraham spoke of? Either way, they should be alright if they kept their distance, and their weapons out of sight.

“Welcome!” Cass shouted, and the many voices fell silent, “Now, those who speak Andalusi can stay where you are, come  _this_ way for Occitan-” 

Vega continued in something like that loopy language of Normandy, and a much smaller group stayed on his side. Good, he could manage that, and the ben-Levis had come! A few had the weatherbeaten look of sailors, the rest might've likewise been merchants. He would _work_ with this. After a deep breath, he strolled closer with Datura on his heels.

“Morning gentlemen! So, who’s met the new neighbors already?” he asked, and a few hands waved, “Good! They love it here, so I  _know_ no one’s bothering them. We just want to make sure everyone understands them, how they work, so everyone _stays_ happy.” 

A few raised eyebrows, but more understanding nods. Good.

“All dragons are different, they have their ways. But you should _always_ let a dragon come to you. If they want to engage, they will, but all this flock are sweet as can be. So, it's just being polite, like shaking hands.” Datura didn't even wait to roll into his open palm, “Be slow, let them learn who you are, and be ready for them to beg for scratches.”

With a wave and a **request,** his share of the dragons surged forward. Flutterkites swooped **eagerly** over the kids a few times before landing, and the three Oceanstars towered over the rest, squinting against the bright sun. the serpents breathed deep and seemed to hone in on some of the sailors, rumbling **recognition.** Those men hesitated, slowly offering their hands one by one and the dragons purred like thunderheads, frills fluttering as they nuzzled _their_ people.

It was going well, but after a time Cass and Vega were called to speak with that Lord.

**Cass?**

**It's alright, they just want to talk. I'll be fine.**

**...I know. Knock ‘em dead luv.**

Isaac’s bright laughter brought him back, and the poor boy was getting a thorough tongue-bath. Right, lessons.

“Now, you _can_ assert your boundaries, just give her a little push. Nice and gentle, that's it.” he helped nudge Lantana away, “Now, be careful _where_ you scratch, most have a spot under their jaw that knocks them flat out. And… huh, these _big_ dragons might be prone to scratching their backs on your boats, watch out for that-” 

There was so _much_ to cover. How to spot a bad tooth or ingrown scale, caring for the delicate skin of wings and frills, helping the dragons stay parasite-free… Dreams of dragon riding had to be politely reigned in, at least until they could build their relationship with this flock. But, _perhaps_ they could leave plans for saddles another time, the Sword Snouts and Wave Skippers were more than capable of carrying a rider. He stressed, so many times, that dragons should be free to _pick_ their partners, because they weren't beasts of burden, they should never be.

By mid-morning, they really had to get going. The people of Montpellier were getting on just fine, so with a few assurances from the ben-Levis, they returned to camp to start the slog again.

“So, what was that talk all about?” he could finally ask, passing straps over Nightshade’s back.

“The usual.” Cass shrugged, “Just wanted to know that the dragons were safe, and weren't going to eat the city’s children. One of the Flutterkites proved our point well enough. I think… this will turn out well. But we should still check closely when we come back this way.”

“Of course. Now, let's get this buckled-” he ducked under Shade’s neck to murmur low, “I want to find somewhere nice and quiet to stay for the night.”

***

The rest of the day was uneventful, and the promise of time alone with his husband set Cassian’s blood burning. Every look, every sneaky **phantom** touch kept that flame simmering until they finally stopped in a wide field of rolling hills, covered in knee-high grass and wildflowers. He had to endure the process of unloading, setting up camp, sating Safiyah’s curiosity until it was properly dark and the stars emerged. Only when everyone else was asleep did they slink away, **assuring** Skullcrusher and Lantana they would stay close. In an eager rush he led Eret downhill, weaving out of sight to a little hollow in the knolls where he barely had time to throw a blanket down before getting wrestled into the pillowy grass. Eret took the moment of distraction to _kiss_ him, fiery and absolutely ravenous from being denied so long. Pulling him even closer, Cassian moaned as their hips finally rolled together, _perfect_ heat and friction-

Eret pulled away only enough to suck in a desperate breath, wearing the most satisfied grin.

“Always wanted to do this.” his husband panted, “Out in the open. _Finally_ we’re somewhere warm enough.”

“And what _else-”_ he gasped after another desperate press of Eret’s hips, “-have you always wanted?”

“Anything. _Everything.”_

“Then you'll have it.”

Six more- no, five more days and they would be _home._ But they had to take it one day at a time. Resting, keeping the dragons fed, teaching Safiyah and Vega as much as he could, of dragons and Norse and just… staying _focused._ He couldn't lose track of here and now, even with the end growing closer. It was getting colder, but Safiyah needed his coat more and luckily Father had something to spare for Vega. But they forged on, day after day, forcing themselves to stop in the Shetlands, that very same cove. Tomorrow, _tomorrow_ they could be home, and the excitement lent them all strength, enough to set up camp and collapse for sleep.

Well, not yet it seemed. Safiyah scooted closer, bundled in his coat and a few more blankets for good measure, and he could see the questions in her.

“So…” she fidgeted with the too-long cuffs, “This is that far-north place right? Are we close, to where you were living? Before Berk I mean.”

He chuckled, “This is the  _exact_ place, and this is the cove where I first met Eret. And the white cliffs we flew over were where we met again, and where we left from.” 

_“Oh.”_ she took a long look around, almost in awe, “There doesn't seem to be much here.”

“No, there isn't.” he had to agree, “It was  _very_ boring, especially over winter. But… it was all worth it, for what my life had become. We might be able to reach Berk tomorrow, and we’re planning to show off everything we brought in the Great Hall. I must warn you, some people and dragons _may_ be excitable, I'll try to fend them off and if you're too tired at any point, I can take you home. To _our_ home I mean. There's… not really anywhere else.” 

“Uh. You're sure?” she grimaced.

“We’ll figure _something_ out, we don't exactly have spare houses lying around.” he sighed, "Maybe someone can loan us another bed, and we can set you up by the hearth. It'll be warmer there.”

“If you insist.” she settled deeper into her cocoon, “But… they won't make a fuss? About me.”

_“No_ Saffy, they'll understand. Especially Valka and Astrid. They’ll _love_ you, I know they will!” 

"I can barely say ‘hello’...” she mumbled, “Norse is so  _weird.”_

“It'll come in time, don't worry. Being surrounded by it helps, and you have someone to teach you. It took me more than a _year_ to figure out on my own.” he grappled Safiyah in for a hug, “You'll be okay.”

“You _better_ not be lying Cassy.” she grumbled, elbowing him in the ribs.

Today, _today._ Eagerness and a fine tailwind lent them speed, the dragons were so damn _ready_ to be back. All those little scattered islands were there and gone again and they could barely bring themselves to rest, they were so _close._ He spotted the territory markers, the great towers of stone they planned to carve one day. Just an hour more.

The dragons appeared soon after, first in the sea and in the air quickly after. Scauldrons, Tide Gliders, Nadders and Thornridges, even _Sunset_ had ranged this far. She roared her **jubilation,** whirling quickly to fly with them and the Wingweavers, _they_ were shocked beyond telling. Any doubt Safiyah may have had was gone, and Vega was no different. Sunset and the others gathered close, so **curious** but **welcoming** to the newcomers as the chorus of dragon-voices rose. Almost there, _almostthere._ Tyrian and Skullcrusher bucked eagerly, shedding their fatigue for one last push.

The flocks grew ever thicker, filling the skies of _Berk_ with color. The Light Furies shot off a barrage of fire to herald their arrival as they filed between the Guardians of the bay, _roaring_ in pure joy. He knew what the ladies must feel, the wonder and awe as the village unfolded before them, time hadn’t dulled the feeling for him either. Villagers looked up as they coasted over the rooftops, grinning bright and pulling each other along to follow from the ground. They landed one by one before the steps to the Great Hall, where he turned the poor Reapers loose. Those three more than earned a rest, and he quickly dismounted to free the Light Furies from their packs. They could get this all inside in a minute, the people of Berk were already gathering, rushing up the stone stairs.

“Datura, Lantana, you're free to go. Thank you, so much.” he hugged them both, “Go relax. We can catch up with everyone tomorrow.”

As they eased back and started to turn, their auricles flicked towards the Haddock home, and through them he heard barking. _Snowdrop._ Wait, wait help Safiyah first you fool.

“Alright, down we go.” he offered her his arm for balance, “So, what do you think so far?”

She dropped, knees so weak she could barely stand,  _“Cassy,_ this is-” 

The barking grew louder, closer, and a few dragons scattered to clear a path for Snowdrop as he _charged_ their way, tongue lolling and fur flying.

“You have a _puppy?”_ she gasped, “He’s so fluffy! Oh, lookit him-”

“Snow!” Eret abandoned his work to drop to one knee, catching the dog against his chest, “That’s my good boy! Has Astrid been mean to you? I sure hope not-”

 _“Eret!”_ the cry rang so shrill it shocked the whole crowd silent.

Snowdrop barely danced out of Astrid’s way as she tackled his husband flat, babbling _something._

“Astrid?” Eret grunted, “Hold on, Astrid what happened? You aren't making any sense.”

He had to kneel beside them and slowly coax their chieftess up, back-

Cassian’s heart stopped. Eret’s too. She was _crying._

“Astrid, _what happened?”_ Eret pressed again, gripping her gently by the shoulders.

“It's what _didn't_ happen.” Hiccup said, almost somber, “Thanks to Snow.”

“Here, I'll take her…” Valka lifted Finna from his arms.

Now free, Hiccup stooped to pull Astrid to her feet and she sniffed, scrubbing her cheeks as he stroked her hair. What in the world? He helped Eret up in turn as Astrid took a slow breath.

“I put her down to sleep and had to check something outside, but Snow wouldn't leave the cradle. I wasn't gone a few minutes before he started barking like it was _Ragnarok.”_ she swallowed hard, “Finna rolled into the bedding, it was all in her face, she couldn't _breathe-_ ”

“She's fine.” Hiccup said, holding Astrid tighter, “She's been fine, over the last week. But if Snow hadn't been keeping watch, I… I don't want to think about it.”

The puppy whined, looking anxiously between them and Cassian had to force himself to breathe. Lantana and Datura were quick to comfort Astrid and Hiccup both, and Safiyah tugged at his sleeve.

“Cassy, what’s going on?” she whispered, but apparently not quiet enough.

As if shocked by cold, the Berkians stiffened, then looked their way. Hiccup, Astrid, Valka, Toothless and Rune, Stormfly and more, all stared owlishly. Oh. Yes. 

“In a moment.” he whispered back, before clearing his throat, “Sorry to delay the introduction, but this is my sister, Safiyah. She wasn't safe back home, I- I couldn't leave her.”

Astrid sniffled again, scrubbing her face almost self-consciously and Valka’s eyes went wide.

“We’ve only just started on Norse, it might be some time before she's conversational. But we’ll have some help with that, from Lady Vega.” he gestured, and Simurgh chirped, “She’s a _master_ of languages, I think she may be the key to Europa, for everyone.”

Luckily, Hiccup only seemed keenly interested and Toothless slunk right around him, sniffing delicately. **It's alright** he assured the Fury, and nudged Safiyah forward. With a few more snuffles, Toothless thrilled **kin** with absolute delight.

“This is one of the fast ones, right?” she asked, pressing against his side.

“Yes, one of the _fastest._ This is Toothless, companion of chief Hiccup.” he patted the dragon’s nose, “You can say hello. He knows who you are, same as the others.”

Slowly, she extended a hand and Toothless pressed his whole snout into it, thrumming deep. Safiyah giggled, started to scratch-

Then, she jolted, “Wait. The chief-king?  _That's him?”_

“Yes, and Astrid, Valka and Finna, Stormfly, Toothless’s mate Rune-” 

“There you are! Better not have gotten started without me!”

Hookfang swooped in, backwinging hard to land on the steps and every Berkian in earshot and beyond rolled their eyes. Snotlout stumbled out of the saddle to strut over, all huff and puff.

“Did you take care of the troublemaker?” Hiccup sighed, kneading his eyes.

“Didn't know what hit him!” Snotlout flexed, and Hookfang scoffed, “And we’re _too_ fast-”

A roar of **malice, challenge, coward** shut him up and a proper _huge_ Nightmare rounded the Spire, glorious in red and gold. Hookfang hissed **enough, impudence,** and threw himself between the wild dragon and gathered crowd.

“What's going on?” he snapped, pushing Safiyah behind him.

“This _jerk_ came out of nowhere and started picking fights with Hookfang!” Snotlout gestured wildly.

“For once, he's right.” Hiccup frowned, “It showed up two days ago, and it won't listen to anyone.”

“Those are Nightmares, right?” Safiyah peered over his shoulder.

“Yes, but stay back. They're getting testy.” he warned her behind him.

The upstart landed hard and hunkered low, goading Hookfang closer, but their Nightmare was too experienced. He led the newcomer in a slow, testing circle, forcing it to move so it had it's back to them all, and together they _chanted_ **fight, contest, FIGHT**. Safiyah tugged on his sleeve again.

“Can't we just do the horn thing?” 

“What? _No,_ we need-” she bolted anyway and his blood turned to ice,  _“Saffy!”_

He saw it all at half speed, he couldn't _move_ as she honed in on the Nightmare’s horns, leaping high and throwing her whole weight over the topmost tine. The dragon pitched sideways, crashed, and it's whole body followed the motion as it went limp as a kitten. Then, it slowly started to _purr._ Eret barely caught him before his knees gave out from shock and he might've tried to speak, but all that came out was a froggy croak.

“She's your sister alright.” his husband chuckled.

 _“That’s_ your sister?” Snotlout asked, almost breathlessly.

The weakness passed and he remembered what words were, “Yes. Yes she is.”

Safiyah stumbled back a step, absolutely _radiant_ in victory and his heart threatened to burst with pride. Hookfang slunk closer, so very polite as he investigated then finally looked his way to hum **kin, question?** He **affirmed** and Fang snorted his gleeful **approval** before turning his attention back to the upstart, giving it an **admonishing** shove. It sighed **acquiescence,** lurching back to it's feet but keeping it's head hung low, at least until Hookfang knocked their horns together. It was some sort of **acceptance, bond, oath,** it whirled and left his head spinning. But with that done the wild Nightmare turned to Safiyah, pupils blowing wide.

Once they marshaled a few extra dragons and bullied the whole of Berk out and away from the Great Hall, they set to work. All the gifts went out in their proper piles at the head table, the rest they spread where they could. The wine and spices and other foods could stay in the chests for now, just on a bench for easy viewing. But looking at it all, now that it wasn't stuffed in bags and boxes, it hardly looked like anything- 

“It's fine luv.” Eret’s arms slipped around his shoulders, “We’ve got miles of cloth and gold to spare.”

“I know but… it just doesn't feel like _enough,_ not for the whole village.” he sighed.

“Everyone will get their turn, this isn't our only trip.” Eret gave him a squeeze, “Now, let's let them in, before they make a battering ram out of Fighlegs.”

They threw the doors open and the riders entered first, the rest filed behind, and they _marveled._ The silks, the spices, the cotton and fruit and ribbons, all of it. The best reactions came from the riders, chief and chieftess, once they made it to their table. The twins fawned over all the tools and great swathes of leather, Fishlegs went absolutely giddy over the paper and ink and Snotlout looked fit to cry for the piles of cloth, thread and needles. Valka was more subdued with her gratitude, but the dainty silver chain still caught her eye among all the fruit and cotton. Gobber was much the same as Snotlout- wait, who got him wine? And were those _flowers?_

Gobber looked to them in absolute befuddlement, almost _aghast,_ and they quickly shook their heads. Who could've-

 _Wait._ He caught their father by the collar before he could slink off.

“Oh go _talk_ to him.” he scolded, and Eret gave him a shove in that direction.

“Eret!” Astrid squawked, looking up from her pile of blue and green silk.

He cackled, but found his husband pointing the blame his way. **Traitor.**

 **Saving my own hide luv. All’s fair in Astrid and war.**

But with a knowing look from Hiccup, they approached the table properly and Astrid took the chance to swat Eret over the head with the bolt of teal silk, still pouting.

“Hey! That was funny and you know it.” he waved her off.

“Still worth a good _smack.”_ she groused.

“It was Cass’s idea!”

Hiccup cleared his throat gently, and Astrid relented.

“This is pretty incredible.” the chief smiled, looking around again, “Snotlout'll be a busy man all winter, and the twins, Fishlegs…”

His face fell, “But, what happened? What’s this trouble?”

“Technically, the problem was solved. Safiyah was betrothed to a vile criminal, and he was arrested. But she- _we_ couldn't trust our father not to do it again. The only thing I could think of was bringing her home.” Cassian expected some kind of scolding, but Hiccup and Astrid both nodded, “Al-Mariyah though, and another city in Normandy, we’ve won them _over._ There's a whole wild flock living around Montpellier now, and we made sure they know how to treat their dragons right. Oh, we made notes, just a moment-”

Where was his pack… oh, there. He fished out his journal and returned, flicking through the pages.

“Oh! This one, we sent her north!” he shoved the Leviathorgan’s pages in front of Hiccup, “Have you seen her? It shouldn't have taken more than a few days to get here from Angleland.”

“Yeah, about a week after you left. She patrols the edges of our territory, sorta set it upon herself to be a guard. The Terrors had a field day cleaning her up, poor thing…” Hiccup sighed, and turned the page, “So, these were in the sea? I'm guessing you found those other three there too.”

“Yeah, the Wingweavers and Simurgh. The others wouldn't be able to handle the cold.” Eret said, “Dad even took a crack at naming one of the new ones.”

“Incredible…” Valka leaned over Hiccup’s shoulder to look, “What of their colors?”

“A _lot_ of blues, every shade you can imagine.” Eret pointed out a few sketches.

“I'm going to check on Saffy.” he murmured.

“Of course luv. Then _these_ were a dark reddish-purple, with big patches of cream-”

He slipped away, weaving through the crowd. There were a few other dragons vying for space, Hookfang, Stormfly, Toothless, the new Nightmare, some other Nadders and Scuttleclaws and Zipplebacks, but Simurgh kept to himself in the far corner with Vega hidden in his wings. This probably was a bit much, the noise and the crowd, even with so many dragons around.

“Vega?” he called, edging closer, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine.” she sighed, “Just need some space. This… this is incredible.”

“We fought hard to make it this way. Hopefully we’ll never have to again.” he patted Simurgh’s snout, “I'm sure dinner will get started soon, and we can arrange somewhere for you to sleep.”

“I can camp.” she shrugged.

“The winters here are _savage_. You might be alright for a night or two, but you'll need something more secure soon.” he warned, “Even if it's just the Great Hall.”

Vega hummed, almost acknowledging and Safiyah’s shriek cut through the din. His heart leapt to his throat, but she was _laughing,_ swarmed by young Scuttleclaws. Oh thank the _heavens…_ He elbowed his way to her and waved the enthusiastic dragons off but Safiyah still giggled, straightening her hair.

“They're so cute!” she gasped,  _“Almost_ like Nadders, but not quite.” 

“Yes, those are Scuttleclaws. They grow much more slowly than most dragons their size, it's strange.” he tucked a stray braid behind her ear, “Dinner should start soon, think you can last?”

“Yeah, so long as I can sit down. _Not_ on a dragon.” she groaned as she stretched, “Uh. There won't be  _pork_ right? I thought I saw some sheep for a moment, but…” 

“Sometimes there's wild boar for feasts, but mostly it's chicken, mutton and fish. The cheese is from sheep too. Don't worry, I'll warn you.” he patted between her shoulders and steered her back towards the head table, “And, sorry about Astrid before. There was almost an accident with the baby, but the dog warned them in time. This is their first child, so they must’ve been scared witless… I'm sure she’ll be back to her usual self soon. And you saw Stormfly-”

Safiyah squawked, stumbling back as something yanked her away. That red-gold Nightmare held her back by the tails of her coat, pinched between it's teeth so delicately it didn't even pierce the wool. **Question, fight-bond-kin** it crooned, almost sheepishly. Huh, that was almost like what Hookfang said to it, he wasn't as well-versed in Nightmares…

“Wait.” he jolted, and the dragon blinked, “Look at it's  _eyes.”_

One was normal gold-amber, but the other was brilliant _green._ Cats could have something like that he knew, but dragons? Maybe they should check with Valka. The Nightmare chuffed **question** again.

“Cassy? What’s it doing?” Safiyah fidgeted.

“I don't know, but Valka might.” he freed the coat from the dragon’s mouth, “Don't be like that now, come along with us. Yes, just move carefully, you’ll be fine.”

It was tough getting the dragon to cross the room, it was so nervous and unwieldy in this human space. And it couldn't _bear_ to be more than a few feet from Safiyah, following like a puppy-

Or like Tyrian. Damn. Should he really be surprised? Of _course_ a dragon would love her in an instant but… a _Nightmare_ of all things? Snotlout would never let him hear the end of it.

“So, did you have any other questions? Valka knows _everything.”_ he prodded.

“Hmm… not yet. Any more teaching and my head  might explode.” she huffed.

“Alright, but you can't put it off forever.” so many people gathering to stare, what a pain…

Eret was still keeping some of the riders busy, the rest poured over their piles and the twins fought over their shark teeth. But Valka had turned her focus to Finna, rocking the baby as she started to fuss. Poor child… but crying was a _good_ thing now.

“Valka, do you have a moment?” he asked softly.

“Ah, that depends, Finna might be getting hungry. Or gassy. Or both.” she shook her head fondly.

“This Nightmare has different colored eyes, have you ever seen such a thing?”

 _That_ got Valka’s attention, “In a way I have, it's usually because they were injured. How different?”

The Nightmare hummed a **greeting** as it tucked it's wings and tail in tight, and Valka’s jaw dropped as she turned.

“Here, hold her.” she stood and dropped Finna in his arms, gentle as a blossom.

He choked, back going ramrod-straight. He knew how to hold a baby, of course he did, but he had to _remember,_ shuffling his arms to support her tiny head, tiny body, she was so _tiny._ Finna’s face scrunched from all the disturbance, already bright pink and on her way to a proper pomegranate red like her hair.

 _“Astrid.”_ he wheezed, dodging a tiny fist, “She's all flushed, I think she’s going to cry.”

She shrugged, “I just fed her, she's fine.”

“But-” he tried to protest, and Astrid just grinned wickedly.

“You _did_ promise.” she said.

Yes he _did_ but this was different- he fidgeted, especially when Eret had the _gall_ to laugh at him. He glowered hotly until Finna popped him in the chin again, whining and wiggling as she stared with those big newborn-blue eyes.

“Yes, happy now that you got a good hit in? _Whoever_ could your mother be.” he rolled his eyes, but shuffled a little more to offer a finger for her to wrangle, “That’ll be a dragon before you know it, better learn quick little miss. But not too quick, or you'll drive your parents grey decades early.”

Finna sneezed, all over his hand. Fair enough.

“She's so _wrinkly.”_ Safiyah whispered, peering over his shoulder.

“She's only two months old, it's a wonder she isn't moreso.” he chuckled, “Here, let's see about your dragon. At least Nightmares are easy to saddle.”

“Wait, he's _mine?”_ she clutched at his sleeve.

“He's absolutely smitten Saffy. I _think_ it's to do with you laying him out like an old cat.” he pulled her along, “He said something about you being… bonded, through a fight? It's hard to explain with just words, like- like you're  _equals_ because you beat him.” 

_“Wow.”_ she breathed, and her Nightmare perked, head tilting.

“Quite the adventure he's had.” Valka said, “And that poor wing, whoever bit you dear?”

The dragon rumbled **fight, failed, ran,** flexing his right wing and revealing the long arc of tiny punctures in the skin, from _teeth._ No wonder they'd never seen him around before.

“Nightmares pick fights amongst themselves, constantly.” Valka explained, “To lose or run is a dishonor, but to fight to a draw or be bested by a smaller opponent? That starts a lifelong bond, just as deep and strong as the bond between mates. I'm sure you see where _that's_ going.”

“Yes, yes I can.” he smiled, and relayed it all to his sister.

***

In the sliver of time they had before dinner, they managed to sneak away. Old Sven had a bed his grandson outgrew, so that was sorted, but first course of action was getting those saddles off Crush and Tyrian. Then, setting Dad up in his cabin. _Thor_ did he want to get some sleep, in his own bed, in his own house-

Crush nudged him towards the right path, half- **scolding** him.

“I know, come on you big beetle. We’ll get you off to your ladies.”

Cassian leaned hard against his side, still with that lost, soft smile. He _needed_ that little moment, whether he realized it or not. But… gods, Finna could have _died._ That still filled his guts with ice. Snowdrop would eat like a king for the rest of his days for _sure._

“Eret.” a touch brought him back, “Saddles and packs, one thing at a time.”

“Right…” he sighed, and Nightshade nudged at his back.

Cass brought all he could inside and started the careful shuffle of furniture to make more room, while he and his father got the saddles off. They hung those in the stable one by one, and the dragons sighed in relief, trundling off for food and a good _long_ scratch. They deserved it.

“Your turn Dad.” he dusted his hands off, “Just _wait_ still you see the place.”

“You weren't joking then.” Dad murmured, near disbelief.

 **Go on, I'll catch up,** Cass nudged him, ghostly fingers brushing his cheek.

“Down this way. Lightning, just a little more for me yeah?” he patted the dragon’s neck.

He took _great_ delight watching his father fidget as they approached the smithy, but they turned to the cliffside path instead and stopped at the quaint little cabin. Oh, someone painted the door and shutters. Probably Gobber. He started pulling the straps off the last packs while Dad approached the door, opened it like it was fit to bite him, and froze in the doorway. Oh. It was two decades since he last had a proper home, with walls and a hearth… this would be a shock, wouldn't it?

“Dad?” he called, and Lightning crooned.

His father slogged inside, and he hastened with the belts to free the Wingweaver from his saddle. He just left it all in a pile and followed after. Dad stood in the center of the room, unmoving, and someone had painted the inside too, with _their_ patterns from the ships’ sails. There was a faint whiff of smoke still, a thin layer of swept-over ash in the hearth, who-

“Eret, all _this?”_ Dad croaked.

“Not _all_ of it." he replied, “It wasn't painted when we left, I thought _you_ would want to.”

“Then who-” he saw the answer hit like a thunderclap and his father flushed red, “Oh.”

“How about that.” he gave the old man a loving punch in the shoulder, “Welcome to Berk Dad.”

A trip back to Old Sven’s got them the bedframe and mattress, though it was a right pain in the ass to get it through the door. Safiyah had plenty of linens thanks to her near-miss of a fiance, so he set that up for her to finish and joined his husband in the loft. There would be _so_ much laundry to do tomorrow, damn. But they had their own goodies to stash away, that first. Honey, wine, their own stock of fruit and spices and _miles_ of garlic, a few bolts of silk and cotton and a fine black leather from Cordoba… And there was no sense hiding his little gift, especially now that they had shed their vests and belts. He pulled the roll of amethyst silk from deep in his bag and unfurled it just enough to drape over Cassian’s shoulders, smoothing it into place. **Shock** struck hard, and Cass gasped.

“Eret, you _didn't-”_

“I did. It wasn't as much as you think luv, you _deserve_ something nice.” he murmured, tucking close, “I _knew_ it would look incredible on you. That color, the shine…”

 **Our** **_sister_ ** **is downstairs, you insatiable goat.**

 **Well, it's a good thing she can't hear us now, isn't it?** He teased, **So she won't know how much I want to see you in a long tunic of** **_this_ ** **and nothing else…**

Cass burned bright as an ember with arousal and embarrassment and swatted his hands.

“Well, I got _you_ something too.” his husband pouted, and slipped away to rummage, “It's not always safe to wear our rings, for many reasons. So, we can put them on chains instead, when we have to. I… got them from Affan.”

They were simple but sturdy, of woven silver and just long enough to tuck inside a shirt.

“It's perfect luv.” he stole a little kiss, then another, another…

“I can _hear_ you.” Safiyah groused from below.

“So help me, I _will_ throw you out in the snow.” Cass growled back.

“It _snows?!”_

“Of _course_ it snows, what do you think is all over the mountains-” 

He was starving, and Safiyah had enough juice to last through dinner, or so she said. She looked fit to drop, but they _all_ did. With Snotlout sufficiently buttered up though, they had to get her prepared for winter, and _quickly._ Tall boots and a coat, mittens and socks, a scarf, some long underwear… At least there was still plenty of fur and wool and dragon scales, and a _Nightmare’s_ seemed to be in order. Yellow and orange, maybe a little red, or some hints of Rumblehorn gold.

“So, think we can flatter Snotlout into a new project?” he asked, shuffling jars over the pantry shelves.

“Absolutely.” Cass chuckled, “I’d be surprised if he doesn't have all his gear already.”

“He did look fit to _swoon_ over Safiyah and her Nightmare.”

“Don't remind me.” Cassian grumbled, “He's _lucky_ he straightened himself out.”

“Aw, you don't want Snotlout as a brother-in-law?” he cackled.

“He’d be _your_ brother-in-law too, dearest limpet.” Cass tugged a lock of his hair, then paused, “That… would that make Hiccup and Astrid cousins-in-law? Does marriage bind that far?”

He shrugged, “Don't think anyone splits hairs about it, so I guess? Huh. How about that…”

Cass fell into contemplation for a moment, before shaking his head, “Safiyah, do you have anything in silk? A dress, or a shift. I'm sure Snotlout and the rest will want to see what a finished garment looks like, we aren't used to working with it.”

“Hmm?” she looked up from her bags, “Oh, sure. But, Snotlout was the boy on the red Nightmare, right? The tailor one, that made the vests.”

“The very same. We’ll need his help to get you ready for winter, because I _would_ like my coat back.” Cass said, “We can make some boots ourselves, there’s plenty of fur around.”

“Aww, but it's _warm.”_ Safiyah pouted, flashing her best puppy eyes.

“And it's _special._ You need one that fits properly, you can pick your own colors too.” Cass retorted.

“Well, when you put it _that_ way…” 

“Let's get going, I'm sure dinner’s done.” he said, done _enough_ with the shelves.

“Oh, can we check on Crucible and Andarax first? I think- I think the egg hatched!” Cass gasped.

“You have _more_ dragons?” Safiyah almost _bounced,_ how sweet.

“Yeah, their burrow’s out back.” he waved her along.

Andarax and Crucible were already waiting for them once they rounded the house, and the _baby_ stumbled around between their paws. What a sweet thing, still stout and pot-bellied like any pup and her limbs were utterly out of control. But she wasn't the same color as her mother. The same _patterns_ sure, but in dusty gold and muted violet. That made Andarax happy at least, she purred like thunder as their baby toddled and flapped, wings flailing-

His heart dropped. Her _wing._

The hatchling’s left wing was smaller than the other, and the bones bent like they surely weren't meant to. She wasn't in any pain, but… it might not grow right, if it grew at all. He could **feel** Cass reaching the same conclusion, but Crucible chimed in. **Home** she insisted, home is **safe** , **kin** is **safe** , **kin-** she jolted, auricles flicking as she sniffed again and her huge gold eyes trained on Safiyah. **Kin**? she cooed, and Andarax peered over her shoulder. **Yes** he answered, but it was the baby that shot forward, falling all over herself to paw at Safiyah’s legs, begging to be held.

“Can I?” she gasped.

“Go ahead. Keep her paws against you, arm under her tail-” he fixed her grip with a few touches.

Safiyah giggled as the hatchling grabbed at her face, snuffling nose-to-nose and Cass took the opportunity to check that wing. He eased the little flap open, testing joints and the awkward bends, brow furrowing deeper and deeper as the hatchling nuzzled into Safiyah’s neck.

“The _arm_ of the wing is fine, it's just the fingers that aren't right. Maybe a splint would help…” Cass sighed, “This is a matter for Hiccup, and Valka. Let's bring them with us.”

Safiyah was more than happy to tote the hatchling along and the Wraiths followed closely, at once curious and protective. That new dragon, _Safiyah’s_ Nightmare, scrambled from between some houses to catch them up. He hadn't even noticed it follow them from the Hall. But it was as keen on her as Tyrian those first days, and he never knew a Nightmare to be so… sweet.

“So, thought of a name yet?” he poked Safiyah’s shoulder, “He’s sure not leaving.”

“Hmm… Hey, Cassy? Remember Crispino’s old stories?” she asked.

“The ones of Rome and the pagan myths? Mostly.” Cass answered.

“That spirit they named the red wandering-star after, I can't remember…” she pouted.

“Jupiter? No,  _ Mars.” _ the Nightmare perked at that, thrumming **interest.**

“You'll have to tell me some of those, the old ones are getting boring.” he prodded.

“Yes, and it would be a good way to get _you_ learning Norse.” Cass said pointedly to his sister.

Safiyah grumbled all the way back up the steps. Space had been cleared again on the tables for the sake of food, and by the smell of it some of their herbs made it into the stew. Despite the relative luxury of al-Mariyah, he _missed_ everything about home and once they had their food, he herded everyone towards the head table, which seemed to surprise Safiyah.

“We’re sitting with the _king?”_ she squeaked.

“Berk isn't like other places, _everyone_ has to work to survive. We can't have a big chunk of the village just sitting around being fancy. Hiccup is the finest inventor of our age, ‘king’ is frankly an understatement.” he chuckled, “But at the end of the day, he’s just a man.”

“Maybe tomorrow I'll show you my _wings.”_ Cass teased, elbowing Snotlout aside for more space.

_“Wi-_ No, _now_ you're fibbing! Just because you have dragons doesn't mean I'll believe everything you say!” Safiyah groused, settling the hatchling in her lap.

“No, they're _very_ real, Hiccup made them himself.” he said, “Maybe there's a spare saddle for Mars we can steal tomorrow. That's how Cass got started.”

“Snotlout, don't you still have one of Hookfang’s old saddles? It seems we need to borrow one.” Cass asked.

“Uh, yeah. I'll have to dig it out though.” Snotlout mumbled. Was he _blushing?_ Oh ho _ho._

“No rush, we aren't trying anything today.” he said over his husband’s head, “And I hate to ask a favor, but we’re gonna need some warmer clothes for Safiyah, and Vega. All the usual stuff, we can help.”

 _There_ was a proper Snotlout look, “I _guess_ I could help. I can get the easy stuff cut out, you can put it together. And Mom’s been making more socks than anyone knows what to do with. But I get free reign on the coat!”

“Yeah, that’ll work. And I can manage the boots, still have plenty of fur.” he shrugged.

“I might request _Nightmare_ scales for that coat, especially yellow ones.” Cass added slyly, “And we brought a silk dress, so you can see what that looks like. It can be a little tricky to work with.”

Snotlout practically trembled with excitement as they passed over the bundle of green silk, which he only took after carefully wiping his hands. It was simple for a dress, all one piece with no laces, a high collar and open short sleeves, plus a little embroidery in blue and yellow. Astrid and Ruffnut watched eagerly as Snotlout studied, and slowly looked over their own piles of cloth with renewed interest.

“So, silk is different.” Cass said, ready to explain, “It's light and thin, so it can be… _transparent._ A silk gown is usually worn over a shift, but nobles like to layer silk of different colors when the latest fashion changes. But it can't really be washed, so keep that in mind.”

“Oh. Well, it's not like embroidery likes being washed either.” Snotlout shrugged.

“And you _do_ need to stitch silk with silk, cotton thread drags too much.” Cass added.

“I figured, you got so _much_ of the stuff. And what’s _this_ weird thing?”

Snotlout snagged a pomegranate as he handed the dress back. And so it began.

With a plan in place for the little Glass Wraith, they finally, finally went home. He was so tired, Cass and Safiyah could _barely_ get their feet off the ground.

“Did you want to look at that bag..?” he dared to ask as he fumbled the latch.

Cassian sighed, “Might as well.”

Safiyah yawned, leaning harder on Mars, “Where can I change ‘n stuff?”

“Oh, damn… We’ll stay up in the loft, but I’ll try to set up a curtain or something tomorrow. And most days we scrub up with hot water and a cloth, it would take hours to boil enough water for a proper bath.” he said, yawning too.

“It's a bit tricky, but I've managed. We can take care of your hair tomorrow too.” Cass added.

Safiyah grumbled and slogged inside, leaving poor Mars to whine after her. **Tomorrow** he assured the poor needy beast, she needs **rest** and so do you. With a mighty, heaving sigh, the Nightmare slunk around the back of the house, allowing them to follow through the mud room. The fire needed a little prodding and some more wood, so he tended to that while Cass filled the kettle. They could take their washing-up to the loft, once the water was hot but for now… He found the small rucksack and passed it over. Cassian only looked after a long moment, but his expression changed little. There were a few sets of tongs and shears, all in good enough shape, a wooden mold or two, some small tools he didn't recognize, and four bags full to bursting. With Cass’s permission, he took one and worked the drawstring open, revealing… glass? It had to be, tiny chips and chunks of it as green as Skullcrusher.

“Woah. It must all be the colored stuff.” he said.

Cass went quiet for a long while, still **churning** inside.

“He never even let me _touch_ the colors.” his husband muttered.

“You did win them fair and square.” he tried to offer a smile, but that fell quickly, “Cass… you don't have to forgive him. You don't owe him anything. Time, attention, even a _chance._ Just because I opened up to Dad doesn't mean you're obligated to do the same.”

Cass leaned hard into him, nodding minutely. Gods they were tired. He tied the bag up again and set the rucksack aside to coax Cassian to his feet.

“Come on, let's get some rest. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.” he murmured low.

They slunk upstairs to wash and change into something relatively clean, and finally bundle into _their_ bed, under _their_ quilts, warm and safe and _home._

“Don't get lost in the grind Cass…” he said softly, “Take time if you need to, and I'll drop everything if you need me. This trip was hard, and that's okay. You aren't _weak.”_

Cass huffed, almost a laugh, “Reading my mind again?”

He only squeezed his husband closer, scratching his neck until he relaxed.

“I promise Eret.” and he _meant_ it, “Maybe just for a bit I want a distraction, but I won't- I _can't_ bottle it all away again. That wasn't fair to _you_ either.”

He sighed, dropping a kiss to Cassian’s brow, “Maybe. But I'm not keeping score. You're only human Cass, we all need help sometimes. You only need to ask.”

Another quiet nod. That was enough for now. It was easy enough to fall asleep after that, buried deep in their blankets, **_together_ ** with the **sparks** of dragons like stars all around them.

***

Safiyah was almost awake. The sun was rising, a fire crackled nearby, and she _wanted_ to get up. But this bed was soft, even if it wasn't hers. But, it smelled like something was cooking and she was hungry. _But the blankets were warm-_

Back and forth she went, get up or keep dozing, until a snuffling wet nose and tickly whiskers shoved right into her ear, quickly followed by a sloppy wet tongue. She shrieked and yanked the sheets up over her head, but- oh, it _must_ be that puppy! It pawed insistently at her shoulders, whining and wuffing and Cassy had the audacity to laugh. _Fine,_ she would get up.

_"Cassy…”_ she groaned, levering out of the pillows, “No fair, throwing a  _puppy_ at me.” 

“Life won't wait forever Saffy.” Cassian snickered, “Breakfast is ready, come along now.”

“Your boy Mars has been wearing a track into the grass.” Eret said from the hearth, “Snotlout’s after that old saddle, but it looked like he’s been up all night with his new toys.”

“Shocking.” Cassian rolled his eyes, “Well, here’s food, and we’ll give you some privacy. Valka will take another look at Crucible’s pup in the meantime, and once you're ready we can try a spin around Berk.”

“And you'll _fly_ with your ‘wings’?” she drawled, rolling her eyes in turn.

Cassy smirked in that old, _devious_ way and pulled a tarp off something tall in the corner. _Two_ somethings, stands that held up suits of dragon-scale armor and savage helmets with shiny glass eyes that set her skin crawling. But, those colors, those were Tyrian and Skullcrusher’s scales, weren't they? The harder she looked, the _stranger_ it all seemed, and what was with those weird patchy bits in Eret’s suit? It looked all bent, like it was badly ironed and the matching helm was even _worse._ How did he manage-

That _war._ And one of those scales in _Cassian’s_ breastplate was cracked and starting to crumble, still showing where something had pierced it. Ice clawed at her skin, from more than just the morning air.

“All that damage…” she muttered, and Cassy winced.

“That's why you wear armor.” he said softly, “Better the suits than us. But that's all over now.”

“It _better_ be, I'm not patching up your skinned knuckles anymore.” she made a show of pouting.

“No worries, that's _my_ job.” Eret piped up, and Cassy fidgeted all bashfully.

Gross. They _were_ worse than Affan, all lovey-dovey like a bedtime story. But… that's how life could be when you had the freedom to choose, _they_ had that chance. And now she did too. That ‘Snotlout’ wasn't _too_ hard on the eyes, maybe if he took that absurd helmet off… Thoughts for later, _her_ dragon was fogging up the window with his breath.

“Okay, _out_ I need to get ready. Go on, shoo!” she waved them towards the door.

Her brothers pushed and shoved each other and the puppy followed them out, and Mars rushed to meet them, only to whine in disappointment. Maybe they were doing that weird dragon-talk thing, and she wasn't _totally_ sure she believed it. But they always seemed to know things they shouldn't, see and hear things beyond human limits, act and react without breathing a word. That, she couldn't explain any other way. Right, time for food, and if she was flying she would need to dress warm… Long pants, two cotton dresses under the coat, that should be enough for a little while. Once she bound her hair back with a long wrap, she was ready. These doors were so strange, it took a few tries to get the latch open on the first, then the second to finally burst into the sunlight. The morning chill bit at her nose and cheeks and fingers and she was already, _almost_ starting to regret the move. Almost. Just a little.

_“There_ you are.” Cassy scoffed, “The saddle’s almost done, I'll get ready. And get you mittens.”

“Right, your ‘wings’. Well, be quick, Mars looks ready to take off.” she said, marching over.

The dragon perked at his name, slipping right out from under Snotlout to scuttle to her, turning in a long circle to show off his saddle. It was a compact thing, with proper wood handles, footrests slung under and leather padding strapped low on his neck, rather like the Wingweavers’.

“Oh yes, _very_ handsome!” she cooed, petting his nose, “But it's not too tight? Can't be throttling you mid-air now, be honest.”

The Nightmare wiggled a bit, arching his neck and stretching hard, but he seemed satisfied. Something beyond Mars’ swaying spines moved, _Snotlout_ stretching to peek over the dragon’s back. He hadn’t ditched the helmet unfortunately, what a shame. It hid his eyes.

“You're all set, once Cass gets the goggles and mittens.” Eret said, “I've got some things to do, getting Dad settled in, so you'll have Cass to yourself this morning.”

“Yes…” she hummed, pausing to think, “I… I haven't said as much, but you know I don't  _mind_ right? I love my brother, to _hell_ with the laws back home, its - it's _wrong.”_

Before Eret could say a word, she ducked under Mars’ wing and hugged her brother-in-la- _brother_ tight.

“You're just _people,_ I don't understand it…” she muttered, heart aching, “How can living as you were born be wrong? Truth is supposed to be a virtue, shouldn't that include being true to yourself?”

“I don't know…” Eret patted her back, “We have our own gods here, it's not the same. There isn't the same pressure, and everyone minds their own business. Cass believes he can make things better, but… maybe he's too optimistic. Or maybe he  _can._ But is it worth the risk?” 

“I don't know either… But if he wants to try, I'm standing with him.” she swore.

“Heh, can't _wait_ to see that-” 

The door slammed and leather creaked, and once she turned her jaw dropped as Cassian strode their way. He looked like a knight out of a fairytale, with that savage grinning helm under his arm, broad pauldrons and heavy boots all _bristling_ with spikes. She almost dropped the items he pressed into her hands, still gawping as Cassian leaned right around her to- really? Yes it was great they could _smooch_ in public but did they have to do it right on top of her?

_"Cassy.”_ she whined, skipping away, “Okay you have all your scales, let's  _go.”_

“Let's get your goggles on first.” Cassian rolled his eyes, “And I'll ride with you.”

The straps barely had enough slack to fit around her hair, but Cassian got them snug and it was… strange. They did limit her vision a bit, but the leather false-eyelids blocked the glare from the sun. While Cassy got that freaky helm on, she awkwardly stuffed her hands into the too-big mittens and were they ever _soft_ inside. Mars was already laid out for her to climb over his neck, so she did, and the saddle was a _little_ big, but she could manage. For now. Cassian just _kneeled_ behind her on the dragon’s back, crouching low as Mars rose, unfurled his huge wings, and _launched._ He wasn't anything like Gold-Clouds, this was raw, _explosive_ power and she could barely hold on. At least her eyes were spared from the force of wind that sent her braids flying, how did anyone manage without them?

High over the sea, and probably at her brother’s asking, Mars slowed, flying even and banking wide around the island. With proper rest and a clear head, she could take in the detail-

Cassian tapped her shoulder, “As promised, watch closely!”

That was all the warning she got before Mars pitched and Cassy hurled himself into open air. He fell for a time, shifting- _wings_ snapped open from the back of the breastplate, plus smaller fins on the boots, and Cassian _flew._ Luckily Mars had the sense to follow, because she sure didn't. Cassy twisted the wings, weaving back and forth, forcing them to chase after much to Mars’ delight. How, _how_ this was incredible! No one back home would believe it! Zayd would probably _faint._ And… Mama too. Maybe not then.

Once they got a _little_ too close to the cliffs, Cassian somehow landed right back where he started, winching in the wings and little flaps. And he _laughed,_ even the helmet couldn't hide it. Mars rounded the village again, lower now so she could see it properly.

“This is Berk.” Cassy said over the wind, “A haven, the forge where  _peace_ can be honed to make the world better for everyone to follow. To bring up the downtrodden, to shine new light on old prejudice, to make sure _all_ have a place in the sun. We don't have to be content with the way things are, and we have to lead by example. And all of this was possible because _one_ boy dared to challenge everything everyone believed. One boy, and one dragon-” 

Mars ducked, nearly pitching her from the saddle as Toothless shot just above their heads like a thunderbolt, followed by Stormfly and more, all howling to the skies. Yeah, Berk would be okay.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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That winter was kind. Long, cold, and mostly boring, but not a _bad_ winter by any means. Safiyah took to Norse like a duck to water once Snotlout got involved, and they were clearly, _painfully_ smitten. Six months was plenty of time to start figuring each other out, and that stunning coat he made started it all. But now they had to get ready for another trip south. Skullcrusher had his new babies to look after and as much as it hurt, Eret couldn’t ask him to leave. Lantana volunteered to take his place, which meant making a new saddle, figuring out where to put his bags on top of making _more_ saddles for the Shovelhelm and Stormcutter pair that would be tagging along. Their sister was coming of course, as promised and Snotlout wouldn't let his projects (or Safiyah) leave Berk without him. The _real_ surprise was Hiccup managing to wiggle out of his duties long enough to join the party, and it wasn't like they could tell him _no._ Finna was growing strong, Astrid had Valka and her parents, and Gobber… well, _he_ had Dad. They'd be gone about a month, Berk could manage and Hiccup wanted to see al-Andalus for himself after all their bragging. Part of him, and Cass, did look forward to showing off and they still had plenty of gold and silver to spend. There was cloth to spare even after all those weeks of nothing to do, wouldn't need any more of _that,_ but more almonds and garlic would be very, very welcome.

He was in the thick of one last saddle-fitting when a thunderous horn-blast echoed over the sea. The Leviathorgan, signaling a ship in their waters. Who, who could that be? Ragnar? Riders were rushing out of their houses, scrambling all over, but Lantana was ready. She crouched as he threw a leg over her shoulders, pausing just long enough for feet to set in the stirrups before they were _off._ The Leviathorgan would’ve raced ahead to warn them, so whoever it was wouldn't be here for hours yet. He kept that thought close as Lantana shot between the bay Guardians and out over the open sea, on and on until the waves broke around a huge horned head. At their **call** the dragon **showed** them-

Dad’s boat. Relief hit hard and he was quick to **assure** the Leviathorgan, ' _Cathedral'_ Cass had named her, that this was **fine** , they were **friends**. She cooed her **curiosity** and almost turned back the way she'd come, but he and Lantana both coaxed her to come to Berk. Can't **scare** them he warned, they’re coming **here** anyway. Cathedral **relented,** blowing a long plume of steam from her nostrils as she settled in to swim. They needed to hurry back though, and call the other riders off. Better a false alarm than none at all.

“C’mon Tana, before Hiccup goes grey.” he patted the Fury’s neck.

They found their chief still on the ground, shockingly, and Lantana barked at the crowds, demanding space to land closer. She swept in, he stumbled off, and Hiccup looked expectantly.

“It's just Dad’s boat!” he said quickly, “Well, his old boat. You know what I mean. It looks like they're heading this way, no idea what for. Maybe just a visit.”

Hiccup sagged in relief, “Good. They can come on by, but you called Cathedral off?”

“Yeah, she’s coming. Made a big stink about it though.” he shook his head fondly.

With calm restored, the preparations for Thawfest resumed and once she arrived, the Leviathorgan took up her place on the rocks down by the cliffs for her weekly Terror-grooming. She was looking _centuries_ younger now, with all the detritus cleaned away and her colors in full bloom, and all the company had her spirits soaring. She kept the Scauldrons on their best behavior too.

“Eret!” Cass caught him outside the smithy after a time, “It's Father’s boat?”

“Yeah, they might be coming here.” he answered, “Any idea why?”

“No, hopefully it's just to see Father on the way back north.” Cass frowned, “Hopefully…”

His husband’s **unease** echoed between them. It _had_ been half a year, if something went wrong after they left al-Mariyah… An icy prickle crawled up his spine.

A team of enterprising Seashockers set off and helped tow the ship in at double-speed, getting it to their docks before the early sunset. They saw it coming of course and rushed to meet the crew, with Dad and Safiyah and Snotlout close behind. The boat drifted in the last few feet on it's own and he braced himself to catch the mooring lines-

But instead a rucksack heaved over the rail and Cass lunged, fumbling it a few times as the crew grumbled and shoved someone forward.

“Here, he’s _all_ yours.” Laki growled.

The captain grabbed the bundled-up man by the back of his coat and the seat of his pants and tossed him out like so much cargo.

“Laki, what’in Thor’s name-” Dad huffed.

“A mangy _stowaway_ is what. Dim fool is lucky we didn't cube him up for bait months ago.” Laki dusted his hands off, “He wanted up here, so he’s _your_ problem now.”

Who could- No. No he couldn't be _that_ stupid.

The man was halfway to his feet when Eret yanked back the hood of the shabby coat.

 _“You.”_ he snapped, turning into a snarl, “Did you not hear a  _thing_ I said? Maybe we should let you swim on home and hope barnacles stop up the holes in your ears!” 

Enzo fruitlessly batted at his arms, trying to shake his grip,  _“You_ wouldn't let me say goodbye-” 

“Not another word.” he hissed, low and close, “You don't-”

“What the _hell_ are you doing here?” Cass interrupted, throwing the bag aside.

“Enzo? Wh- you just _abandoned_ the shop?!” Safiyah stomped her way over.

The smith clammed up long enough for him to turn back to the ship.

“He isn't welcome here, can't you just take him back?” a headache was pricking already.

“Absolutely not. I won't have this idiot getting himself and _us_ killed near-daily.” Laki snorted, “He wanted at your man this bad, _you_ can tell him no. _Again_ apparently.”

“Eret, what is he talking about?” Cass sighed, hard with fury.

“Our little fairytale prince here tried to sneak aboard the last night, Shade had to show off her tusks to get him to go home.” he muttered.

“What? I barely _know_ you, why would you think I’d welcome a midnight visit?” Cass rounded on the smith.

“You- you wouldn't be the first of us forced to marry, you could run away-” 

“Wow, you're something special.” Safiyah chuckled, crossing her arms.

“Run away, with _you_ perhaps?” Cass sneered, “I’m quite  _happily_ married thank you, and I believe my husband has made our position quite clear. You are treading a _very_ dangerous line.” 

Indignant offense still boiled in his blood, it was a good thing Cass took over before he pitched this idiot into the mouth of the nearest Scauldron. _Who did he think he was-_

**A desperately hopeful idiot,** his husband answered, **let him go, before he keels over.**

He slowly released the tight fistfull of Enzo’s coat, but the man just gawped like a beached fish and Dad elbowed past to talk to the crew. It _was_ too late to leave, the least they could do was offer to top off their water stores…

“How can that _be?”_ Enzo rasped, voice so small.

“Once you're willing to accept dragons, _people_ of all sorts aren't as much of a stretch.” he crossed his arms hard, “Berk is a special place, and you were just gonna sweep in like you owned it?”

Hundreds of dragons squawked and called above, and Enzo went even paler, hunching in on himself. Cass sighed, scooped up the bag and shoved it into the smith’s arms.

“Come, it's time for dinner. We’ll put you up in the Great Hall for the night and you'll fly back to al-Mariyah with us.” Cass turned on his heel, “We leave in eight days.”

He almost protested, then almost stayed behind, but Dad waved him off and Safiyha caught him by the elbow, dragging him back up the hill.

“Why didn’t you tell me he came by?” Cass asked, once they caught up.

“Didn't think it was important, and I _thought_ I made myself clear.” he forced himself to look forward.

“What is he so fixated for anyway?” Safiyah panted, half-hanging from his arm.

“I talked to him every so often when I brought Affan his lunch, but nothing more than that. I didn't even remember his name.” Cass frowned, “Your guess is as good as mine.”

“He best keep his hands to _himself.”_ he found himself growling.

“My, is that _jealousy_ dear brother?” Safiyah goaded, “It doesn't suit you.”

“No, I just don’t appreciate some _nobody_ making moon-eyes at my husband-”

 _“Not_ nobody…” came a stilted, sullen, Andalusi-accented protest behind them.

They froze as one, looking back to find Enzo red-faced and pouting like a kicked puppy. Well, six months on a boat was enough to pick up a few words it seemed.

“Great, there goes any privacy.” he huffed, resuming the march.

“We’re going to have to teach him to ride…” Cass thought aloud, “The Shovelhelm should be fine. Think he’ll be any better than old Grimmel?”

He snorted, “Doubt it. We might have to add extra straps to belt him down.”

“Or we can just stuff him in a sack to go with the rest of the luggage.” Safiyah said. Bless her.

“Who _is_ this guy?” Snotlout piped up, “Shifty as a Smokebreath if you ask me.”

“Someone I knew in al-Mariyah.” Cass sighed, “And he's not _shifty,_ he just has more hope than sense. A _lot_ more. He worked as a silversmith with my brother.”

“Maybe Gobber can babysit him.” he mused, almost wistfully.

“We want him _alive_ in a week dearest limpet.” Cass tugged a lock of his hair.

“Do we really?” he rolled his eyes.

 _“Yes_ Eret. He hasn't done anything wrong, not really.”

“He best keep his nose out of our business if he wants to keep it on his face.”

He didn't care how much the impudent little smith could understand, this was _their_ home and he could deal with it. And Eret took great pleasure in stealing Cass’s hand, lacing their fingers tight to drive away the cold. Enzo should have a clearer idea of his place in the village, but he would be barring their door as a precaution. The fool clearly had no concept of boundaries…

***

They managed to herd Enzo to the Great Hall like a lost duckling, and he only tempted death _once._ Luckily that Thunderclaw was more spatially aware than the smith. He and Eret waved off curious stares for now, maybe tomorrow they would field the questions… and he could give a tour. Might as well if the man was here for a week, especially if it stopped the smith’s _snooping._ Though, he wouldn't be advertising where their house was, he wasn't _mad._ Hiccup would want to know about this too…

With food acquired and seats found in a quiet corner, he was more than happy to let Enzo stew in silence. There were still matters to discuss for the trip.

“How are the saddles coming?” he nudged Eret, “Especially Lantana’s.”

“Good, all of them. We’re adding some little back rests, and safety straps. That should be enough to keep butts in seats for a short flight.” his husband shrugged, “And we can put some of the extra gear on the Stormcutters, Tana just doesn't have the room. You convince Nightshade and Foxglove to stay?”

“No, not yet.” he sighed, “They’re adamant, and so is Tyrian. They _loved_ it there.”

“A big flock was tough last time, we can't bring so many if we don't need to. _Especially_ with all these big dragons we have to feed…” Eret picked at his bread.

“I'll talk to them, don't worry. Scarab was keen on going too, no thanks to Datura…”

Hiccup found them eventually, quiet and expectant, asking with hardly a look and he sighed.

“This is Enzo, from al-Mariyah. He stowed away on Father’s ship and annoyed the crew until they took him here.” he explained.

“Didn't.’’ Enzo grumbled, poking at his stew, “I _asked.”_

That got Hiccup blinking in mute surprise, then he shook his head slowly.

“I'm guessing he needs a lift home?” the chief asked.

“Yes, we’ll get him used to the Shovelhelm tomorrow. He only has one bag to bring, and we can set the bedroll up in here.”

“What, not making room for one more?” Ruffnut goaded as she strolled by.

Indignation flared white-hot as he growled _“No.”_

She froze, pinned under half a dozen glaring eyes.

 _“What?_ It's not like his sister is there half the time.” she scoffed.

“Still uncalled for Ruff. Keep walking.” Hiccup gave her a shove.

“Well if _you_ don't want him-”

 _“Ruffnut.”_ they snapped in unison.

God steady his hand, that _woman_. Something about her always killed his appetite. He shoved his bowl away, but Eret’s hand found his under the table, fingers twining slow and gentle.

Everyone retired early to their luck, and Safiyah volunteered to fetch the bedroll from home. Eret set himself to gathering pine boughs for a little cushioning, leaving _him_ alone with Enzo. This poor fool… hitched a ride halfway up the world to chase him, only to run into a wall of opposition once his goal was finally in sight. _That_ much determination in the face of dragons and oceans and winter… he had to give credit where credit was due. 

“You are a fool…” he sighed, kneading his eyes, “But brave. You’d be the first I’ve ever heard of to come this far by sea alone, from home at least. Even  _I_ finished the journey by flight. We’ll be back in al-Mariyah in a little over a week thanks to that.” 

Enzo sagged, “I'm sorry. I know it was stupid, I just… I’d never  _known_ anyone like- like me. We only exist in hushed whispers and rumors, like-” 

“Like dragons.” he finished, “But hiding in plain sight, when we don't turn our backs on it all.”

“It's a _joke.”_ Enzo laughed bitterly, “And here I am, chasing a folly to the ends of the earth.”

“Not while I'm still breathing.” he said firmly, “I’ve  _met_ the emir. He is wise, I _know_ he can be reasoned with. We brought dragons to al-Mariyah, we helped capture a wanted criminal, we are _known_ there. Our words will have weight, and I owe it to everyone like us to fight if I can. The _misery_ this propagates… it's cruel. Even if it's what made all this possible, no one else should have to live in fear for existing.” 

Enzo was quiet for a long while, picking at his cuffs while the hearthfire crackled.

“Do you really think it's possible?” he asked, small and barely hopeful.

“Not all at once, I wouldn't dare hope for weddings the next day. But if I can make even _one_ change, that can lead to another and another, momentum can't start without a first push. Even if it- I-” he swallowed hard, “Even if it means I can't go back.”

Enzo jolted, “You would risk your  _home_ for this? Your home, your family, all that trade-” 

_“Yes,_ I would. If I succeed, that would be worth more than all the silk and spices in al-Andalus.” he frowned as his throat squeezed tight, “If I don't… we have our dragons. We could always sneak in during the night, send someone else to trade…”

Enzo said nothing more, leaving him to scrub his face as he blinked away tears. Eret knew all this of course, and was more than willing to help. But when the day came, he would go alone. He couldn't ask Eret to risk his life and _freedom_ too, this would be his sacrifice to make if that's how it must end. He could beg for forgiveness in this life, or the next.

Morning was a slog, but at _least_ Enzo stayed put. Nightshade and Foxglove were still absolutely incensed at the thought of staying behind, no matter what he promised, coaxed, or cajoled. Perhaps two Stormcutters would suffice, and they could let the Shovelhelm stay. That would still leave them with a flock of nine, they had managed that once before. If they sprinted over Normandy, they could make up for the scant meals on the coast-

“Your ears are smoking luv.” Eret nudged him.

“Just planning ahead, the ladies won't hear me out.” he mumbled, shrugging into his coat.

“Damn… Well, two trips to Cordoba won't kill us, might've needed to do that anyway.” Eret offered, “Plus we’ll still have the Nightmares. And I’d hate for Fox to miss out…”

“Yes, but we have to think of the wedding. I _hate_ to say it, but they do strike fearsome figures. The Nightmares might be risky already, I don't want to spook Ghadir or her family.” he leaned into his husband's touch when hands settled on his shoulders.

“We’ll manage Cass, there's still a week…” Eret murmured low, “Now, let's go pick up our stowaway.”

They found Enzo stuck beside _Tuffnut_ of all people over breakfast, though Tuff seemed to be doing all of the talking, leaving the smith to listen. He was unflatteringly stuck halfway between bemused and bewildered, which was to be expected for meeting a Thorston.

“Come, it's time for your lesson. We’ve already got the dragons waiting.” he announced.

Enzo was across the room faster than he could blink, not even bothering to hide his eagerness. To fly or to get out, he couldn't be bothered to guess. Maybe Enzo could make some fresh impressions outside of their own flock.

***

Berk was… there _were_ no words. Mountains covered in snow, trees thicker than a bull, buildings in a riot of colors, and the _dragons._ Lord bless him, the _dragons._ He abandoned guessing their number in minutes, even just tracking the breeds he lost count around 20. Fish lay about in bowls and troughs to feed the beasts at their leisure, and most wore the saddles of their riders. Not all, but most, including the one Cassian had _him_ riding. Broad as an ox it was, green and violet and stocky and stout with it's great frilled skull and tiny arms, with a tail that went flat like a fish’s fin. The beast didn't mind him, but it wasn't as keen as others were for their riders either. And… that stung something fierce. He knew he acted a fool back home, but even here the dragons just barely tolerated him. Was he too foreign, too strange? He didn't look so terribly out of place in the village, a good number of them had the same light hair. It must be something else, that only a dragon could sense. He really didn't belong here, and the beasts knew it…

That big man, _Eret,_ didn't let him forget it either. He only understood every third or fourth word of Norse, but that was enough to catch all the anger and exasperation. Yes, he was a fool, a sheep’s ass, a hanger-on, a thorn in their side… but he hadn’t pegged Eret as one of _them,_ not back then. He should've been able to figure it out, but he was blinded by that one thread of hope, the absolutely _radiant_ light Cassin brought everywhere he went. Even all those years ago, he lingered near the front of the shop on the chance that he might strike up a conversation, just one word was enough to send him soaring. All the boyish charm of those days was gone now, hardened and forged like steel and Cassian carried himself with all the power and grace of a lion, fierce as an eagle- Or, a dragon. Any look, smile, stray _touch_ still set his heart pounding and he hated himself all the more for that weakness. But it… this wasn't love, he wasn't that foolish. Lust? Maybe not, more like childish infatuation. Seeing _them_ together certainly filled him with jealousy, but who else was there? No one, here or in al-Mariyah.

Enzo shook his head sharply and the Shovelhelm rolled, almost bucking him off as it scolded with a fiery snort. He really was hopeless…

The days passed all too quickly, leading to a strange pagan festival of drinking and feasting, something about celebrating the return of spring. _What_ spring he had to wonder, snow still buried half the village. But Cassian insisted the seasons would turn quickly and come high summer, the sun wouldn't set for the better part of a _week._ He almost didn't believe it, almost. If anyone but Cassian had said so, he would have written them off as a madman. This new _world_ was so strange, and home was starting to sound… welcome.

***

For five days he tried to talk sense into the Sickle-Scales, until they finally stormed off in indignant fury, walling themselves against any more words. Even Eret couldn't sway them, when he found the two gorging themselves at the fish trough. But… they had to pack, prepare, get ready to fly. Hiccup and Snotlout had made themselves clothes fit for southern weather through the lull of the winter months, and they all packed their best tunics for the wedding. Then there was the traveling gear, fishing net, kettle, food stores and water skins… at least they knew what to expect day by day this time. He would bring his bow to hunt overland, they had better maps to streamline the journey, and there would _still_ be time to indulge Hiccup and Snotlout with a little sightseeing. They could skip London for sure, the _stink_ wasn't worth the delay.

“Still plotting luv?” Eret caught him by the hand on their way home from dinner.

“Yes, I think we can safely pass London by this time.” he said, airing the thought out properly.

“Couldn't agree more.” Eret grimaced, nose wrinkling at the memory.

But, something encroached on the easy banter, a low, pained groan from _their house._ They bolted, hearts in their throats all the way to the side stable where the disorienting haze of **pain** intensified, burrowing into his gut. Nightshade and Foxglove lay in a pile, keening with every labored breath and he could **feel** the debilitating cramps through their stomachs.

“Wh- did you really eat _that_ much?” he seethed, “And to think I was going to let you come!”

Foxglove gurgled incoherently, barely able to open even a single eye to look at him.

“You’ve really gone and done it this time.” Eret sighed, “How could you _do_ this to yourselves?”

Tyrian’s **stricken** voice reached them from above as he fell from the sky, skidding in the mud as Valka managed to vault from his back.

“Where are- oh. Oh my.” she stumbled as the **distress** washed over her, “What happened?”

“They ate their feelings.” Eret said, crossing his arms.

“They didn't take too _kindly_ to being left behind.” he elaborated, swatting his husband’s arm.

Tyrian shouldered through them all, crying for his mate and comforting her as best he could through another cramp. The dragons curled together, keening, crooning, whining…

“I'm afraid there’s not much to do for indigestion but wait.” Valka sighed, “But I doubt they’ll be flying tomorrow, or the day after.”

“And Tyrian won't leave them.” he finished, “Damn…”

Valka promised to check by again in the morning, there was just no way for her to help now. Eret dragged him inside, they needed all the rest they could get before a week of camping. Safiyah was off with Snotlout, which left the two of them _alone,_ a rare treat these days. But with the dragons roiling in pain right below them, he certainly couldn't get in a mood for anything but sleep. So, they readied for bed, but he could **feel** Eret thinking as they tucked into bed.

“What about Scarab?” Eret finally proposed, “There's that first saddle we botched when I made the straps too small. If we finished it…”

“I-” he sighed, “That may have to be what we do, I’ll finish it tomorrow. Just in case…”

“They’ll be okay Cass…” Eret dragged him close and pulled the blankets higher, “Valka can keep an eye on them. It _is_ their own fault.”

“Yes, it is…” he grumbled, nuzzling closer still.

Near a month on the road and in al-Mariyah would be torture, he was going to hold his husband as long and tight as he could.

Nightshade and Foxglove hadn’t improved much by morning, and had settled into a lethargic half-sleep to recover. Tyrian wouldn't leave them even for food, nevermind al-Mariyah. It seemed he would need Scarab’s help after all. The saddle was quite like Toothless’s, but made of soft-worn canvas with light stirrups and just enough framing to support a set of solid handles and knee-braces. There wouldn't be room for a pack, that would have to join the rest on the Stormcutters, but this should do the trick. Toothless, Hookfang, and Mars were all eager to go, as were their riders, but they still had to finish packing, check their goggles, organize the spare bags for any shopping and their remaining coin. _God_ he couldn't wait to see home…

Even if he might, _might_ never see it again.

They gathered at dawn, adjusting saddles and loading packs once the dragons ate their fill. Enzo still needed a boost into the seat, bless his heart, but at least he could fasten the lap-belts on his own. Scarab yawned wide as Cassian mounted up and settled in, only perking when Lantana sidled close to mewl her **excitement**. Yes, yes they were **going.** The flock of nine took off as one, turning south as they rose into a fine tailwind.

The Shetlands came and went, then more of the coast of Angleland, past farms and forests, villages and hamlets, London and the channel that parted the island from Normandy. The nights were frigid, even under both coiled Furies, their wings, two blankets, _and_ his husband’s arms, but the weather held well enough and it would only get warmer. Hiccup worked tirelessly at his notes, maps and who knows what else while they camped, but Monpellier was the real point of excitement for everyone. He could only hope they had listened, resolved to live in peace with the dragons there.

The Imperial Sea was in sight by early afternoon on the sixth day, though the hills blocked any early view of the city. Lantana bucked with eager energy that bled into the rest of the flock, especially Scarab and Mars. They let themselves drift lower, skimming the peaks of the land as it all sloped away, and _finally_ Montpellier revealed-

Dragons. A hundred of them at _least_ circled the city or roosted on the walls and rooftops, and more still lounged in the bay. God, there were so _many._ Young fledgelings, new arrivals, and familiar faces mingled with the people down below, on the streets and in gardens, milling about like they'd always been there. The biggest shock of all was the first _rider_ sprinting to meet them on the back of a Sword Snout. _Waitwasthat-_

 _“Isaac?!”_ he squawked, almost pitching backwards out of the saddle.

The boy laughed, bright and breathless and Cassian could only gawp like a fish on a hook.

“Come, this way!” Isaac shouted, waving for them to follow.

Toothless prodded with a **question** before they could, **question,** is he **safe?** **Yes,** he responded quickly, him and his kin were **friends, good** and **safe** and **kind**. He added a few memories for good measure; Abraham, Zerahaia, the pomegranate tree, Tyrian and Lantana playing with Isaac in the garden, and Lantana chirped her **agreement.** Satisfied, Toothless led the way himself, over the city walls to a wide open square. Dragons and _more_ riders milled there, at least until they scattered to make room for the Stormcutters, then the rest of the flock one by one. There had to be at least a _dozen_ new breeds of all sizes, where had they all come from? He staggered down from Scarab’s back and almost missed Hiccup’s question.

“I thought you said there were a _few_ dragons.” the chief said, just as awed as he was.

“There _were,_ this is four times the number at least…” he mumbled, “Isaac, what  _happened?”_

“Ever since you left, they just kept coming! And they've had babies too!” the boy grinned, “We’re still figuring saddles out, they’re a little tricky.”

“I’m sure Hiccup will be happy to help.” he chuckled, “It seems they’re in need of better saddles chief! Let's see if we can't find the folks in charge.”

There were so many new breeds to record, he dedicated himself to that while Hiccup and Eret worked elsewhere. The first was a two-legged dragon, Nadder-sized with far fewer spikes, a beaky birdlike head with sweeping brow-crests, falcon-sharp wings and tail fins for good measure, the next was long and slender with short legs and a stretched-out muzzle, then another so very similar but with tall crests over their eyes and crescent horns on it's snout like a Windstriker. Then there was a pack quite like lions in shape, with a double-layered mane of frills and pastel spotted hide, absolutely _stunning…_ Isaac’s dragon, _Lancer_ he called it, kept watch the whole time, head tilting strangely to see around it's horn. So many of the newcomers were stunned still by dragonspeakers, some so badly they crashed into each other. There must not be any others then… just for now. He hoped.

_“Wow.”_ Hiccup groaned, flopping back against Toothless.

Lantana, Scarab and the rest settled into their camp, and he was wont to agree.

“Indeed. And they managed all this with just a _single_ nudge in the right direction.” he eased down, stretching hard, “The flock is breeding here, more have come… I never knew there were so many _left._ To think, they were just out of sight all this time.”

“And now they don't need to hide.” Eret added, settling beside him.

“Those lion-y ones were so _cute!”_ Safiyah giggled, “They like getting scratched between the frills. The slinky ones are right bastards though-”

 _“Safiyah!”_ he yelped, “You’d better not speak like that around our mother, she’ll _kill_ me-”

She just cackled, and the Nightmares joined her.

To his credit, Enzo had held strong through all their flying and kept out of the way, but he had hardly spoken a word unless spoken to. They were almost home, they could wash their hands of him then. But… it almost seemed unfair, bordering on cruel. What were they supposed to do though, keep him on Berk? Build another room and welcome him into their home, or their _bed?_ No, that-

 **_Easy_ ** **luv, or you’ll start smoking about the ears** Eret smoothed a hand down his back.

 **Am I wrong, to feel guilty?** He asked, **he dared to dream, and we’ve only insulted him…**

Eret drew a breath as if to protest, but let it go. **Maybe…**

 **I don't know what to do, but** **_this_ ** **isn't right.**

 **We’ve got time luv** Eret pressed a tender kiss to his brow, safe under the Furies’ wings.

In the morning, there was no time to spare. Al-Mariyah was waiting. They could spend a whole day here on the way back if they wanted and they likely would at Hiccup’s insistence, but they couldn't leave his family waiting. He _promised._ They could be home by tomorrow evening, the day after could see them in Cordoba, depending on the plan…

At sunset they stopped on the same little island in the bay of Balansiyyah, and now was the perfect time to give Snotlout and Hiccup a few fair warnings. They would _probably_ need it. Once they unpacked and settled in, he cleared his throat gently for their attention.

“Ah, Hiccup? And Snotlout.” once they looked, he drew a deep breath, “It goes without saying, al-Mariyah is not Berk. We have to play by different rules. It would be best- _safer_ if you stuck with one of us out in the city. And, Snotlout… you can't be alone with Safiyah. One of my brothers or I need to be with the both of you, even if we told them you’re betrothed. That's just how things are there. And I may have overstepped, but-”

He winced, still feeling a little foolish as Hiccup squinted.

“I _might’ve_ told a few people that you were a king, and Snotlout was a prince.”

“You what?” Hiccup said, almost aghast.

But Snotlout melted into a satisfied grin, “I _am_ kinda a prince, aren’t I?”

 _“No_ you are not.” Hiccup huffed, “And I’m not a _king.”_

“Well, by _Europa_ logic you are.” Safiyah piped up, “Just a little bit? You rule a lot of land, you have people paying you tribute, the Great Hall is _kinda_ a castle...”

She shrugged and- was Hiccup _blushing?_

“That still doesn't make me a king.” the chief insisted, rubbing his neck.

“The people of al-Mariyah don't know that.” he said casually.

“And who’s gonna argue? You and Toothless look the part, especially since you started raiding our stash of gold scales.” Eret raised a knowing brow.

Hiccup only flushed darker, all the way up to his ears as he pouted.

 _“Anyway,_ the markets.” he said firmly to get back on track, “Try not to shout, or make a scene in public places, and most merchants don't appreciate you touching their wares without invitation. If you want to see something, they’ll be happy to show you. If someone offers you an unexpected gift, it's considered polite to refuse twice before accepting, even if you don't want it-”

Once Eret and the rest were asleep, he crept out from under the Furies’ wings. The Shovelhelm stirred from it's light slumber as a twig snapped underfoot, but he quickly soothed the beast. Little **rider** , can't **rest** it sighed, tinged with reluctant pity. **Heartsick** it added after a moment’s thought. **Yes** he agreed, before asking, **awake now?** The dragon snuffed, peering under it's wing before answering **yes.**

“I know you aren't asleep.” he said aloud, “Come.”

He only waited for the blankets to rustle before starting a slow stroll towards the cliffs. The moon was high and stars bright, it was easy enough to see the path as Enzo caught him up, still groggy and confused. But he did not speak as Cassian gathered his thoughts, _tried_ to come up with something meaningful to say. First thing’s first…

“I'm sorry.” he said softly, “We were… harsh. All of this was a surprise, for both of us, but that doesn't make it right. You just hoped for what we all want.”

“And now we’re heading back to where we _can't_ exist.” Enzo said, so hollow and empty, “And I'll be expected to marry, have children, smile and be happy for all the misery.”

“It's not too late to find your own way.” he insisted, “And what if I can get through to the emir? What if things change? How life  _is_ isn't how it has to be, not if we fight for it.” 

“I thought _I_ was supposed to be the fool…” Enzo mumbled, kicking at a stone.

“Maybe I am a fool. But nothing will change if no one dares to try, and _someone_ has to be a hopeful idiot before there can be a hero. If my only legacy is being the first to dare so more could follow… I can die a happy man.” 

Enzo said nothing more, so he led the way back to camp. Tomorrow…

Sunrise, food, and flight, it was routine by now and Cassian could trudge through it mindlessly. He even dared lay back over Scarab’s shoulders and _nap_ for an hour or two between breaks. Everything looked more or less the same on this stretch, there wasn't much to see. Hiccup could fawn all he wanted though, especially if it got them better maps.

He could almost _smell_ the honeycakes when the eastern half of the bay finally, _finally_ came into view. Lantana howled long and bright with **joy,** nearly tossing Eret into the air when she twirled, then rushed to the head of the pack. First… they should probably make a pass by the Alcazaba, make themselves known. That could well get them another summons, and from there maybe he could ask for another audience, _alone._ It had to be alone. But he pushed that aside, time to check in.

 **How about we salute the emir first?** He posed to his husband, **then we can land on the hill out back.**

**Good idea, I'm sure he'd appreciate a warning. Below the walls, right?**

**Right. Slow, and in one line.**

He coaxed Scarab between Toothless and Hookfang, to pass the message on.

“Al-Mariyah is just beyond the rise!” he shouted, “First we’ll fly by the palace, let the emir know we’re here! I will lead, we’ll fly single-file.”

Hiccup and Snotlout shrugged, then nodded and they settled in for the last stretch.

They passed into the bay, blue and shining under the downward track of the sun where white sails weren’t fluttering in the wind. Lantana knew the feel of the land and took the lead instead to aim them towards the cape. Eret’s **warmth** was some assurance, soothing his nerves as they dropped lower, low enough to see the sailors aboard the little boats as the port drew closer and the city rose, as beautiful as the day he left it. He _wanted_ to turn east, to _home_ and Scarab almost did, but Lantana gently coaxed them back in line. The Alcazaba still loomed, rosy and glowing and they flowed to the walls in perfect formation, banking wide and flying their circuit low and slow below the parapets. The guards watched, not at all concerned, some even seemed to be _smiling._ Good, great even. With that, they scattered in a mad dash for home.

Scarab and Lantana raced neck and neck, as close as they dared with Mars hot on their tail, skimming rooftops as they drew shouts of recognition from below. The dragons _howled_ their excitement and by the time the workshop was in sight, Eret and Lantana started to drift towards the hills, leading the rest of the flock.

 **I’ll take care of the others luv, it’ll just be two shakes. Go on** Eret urged.

 **I love you-** he managed to say before Scarab dove, landing hard and skidding on the cobbles.

Mars followed a heartbeat later and barreled towards the gate, ignoring the rider hauling on his horns until Toothless’s **warning** chuff brought him to a screeching halt.

“Mars!” his sister squawked, righting herself in the saddle, “Where are your  _manners?”_

The Nightmare drooped, rumbling a sheepish apology as he scuffed his claws in the dirt.

“Honestly, you _know_ how big you are. And stop being a baby, scooch down so I can get off! I'm not _Eret.”_ she groused until her dragon relented.

“Maybe we should've added that ladder like I suggested?” he teased, slipping to the ground.

_“You'll_ be the one needing a ladder when I let Mars chew your legs off-” she grunted.

Even hanging off the pommel, her toes hovered an inch above the ground and Mars snorted **smugly**.

“Saffy, just let go.” he shook his head, almost fondly. Mostly in exasperation.

_“No,_ it's a matter of principle! Mars, do as I say-” her lecture ended with a yelp as the dragon gave a little shake, dumping her into the dust.

Somehow, the dragon _grinned_ at her. Cheeky bastard. 

“Alright, up we go. Before anyone explodes.” he hooked Safiyah under the arms to get her to her feet.

“Safiyah, what in the _world.”_

The gate flung open and Mama rushed to them, followed quickly by Zayd and Affan… but no Jarrah.

“This is _my_ dragon!” she beamed, sweeping right into their mother’s arms, “He picked me!”

“He really didn't have a choice after you laid him out like a lame goat.” he chuckled.

All five of them crushed together, for a good long while, sniffling and laughing while the dragons investigated the house, then all his family. **Kin** they thrummed with growing delight, intensifying when his nephew and nieces joined them. Mars even hunkered low, almost laying flat on the ground for the kids to get closer, patting his snout or scratching his brow. Wait, there was still work.

_“Jarrah,”_ he blurted, scrubbing his cheeks, “Jarrah, the plan, how goes all that? We can try for Cordoba tomorrow, we brought spare dragons for the task.”

“We’re almost done, the ceremony is in eight days so long as Ghadir is ready.” Mama answered, “So, we will need Jarrah and the bride-to-be. But, who else was that with you?”

“Some other friends from Berk, I’ll introduce you in a moment.” he said quickly, “They landed out back, they needed the space-”

Right on cue, Lantana bounded around the side of the house, followed closely by Toothless, Hookfang, their riders, and after another moment-

_“Enzo?!”_ Affan jolted, hastily untangling himself, “Devils take you, where have you  _been?_ Crispino was worried _sick,_ Hyder wouldn't come out of his room for _days!”_

The smith almost bolted before the Shovelhelm caught him by the scruff of his shirt, toting him along after Eret with a smug snort.

“He stole himself a ride all the way to Berk, can't imagine what possessed him to do that.” he sighed, only partly lying, “It was pure luck that the boat arrived before we left.”

“Put me _down!”_ Enzo wheezed, flailing until the dragon had enough and tossed him right over the garden wall like a sack of flour.

He landed hard, motionless in a crumpled heap and groaned low when he could bear to lift his head. Affan _stormed_ to him, red-faced and fuming, and hauled Enzo up by fistfulls of his shirt to _seethe_ in his face.

“You left without a word, we thought you were _dead!_ Wasn't it bad enough when my brother-” Affan cut himself off, dropping Enzo back to the ground, “Get out. Just- get out and think long and hard about what you did.”

Enzo scrambled to his feet and ran, hitting the gate hard on the way out before turning down the street. Wait, his bag- Damn, they could manage that tomorrow or something. Affan turned his back on them all, covering his face and Mama shot him a look that demanded answers later. Beyond the wall, Hiccup and Eret shuffled awkwardly, but Snotlout, he looked-

Moonstruck.

“Dude…” Snotlout said almost breathlessly, “You didn't say your brothers were _gorgeous.”_

“Snotlout WHAT?” he squawked, face burning.

“What? They _are!”_ Snotlout protested.

Safiyah cackled, so hard and wild she fell back against Mars and _kept_ laughing.

“Smack him for me please, my love.” he groaned, kneading his temples.

The resounding thud of a fist over Snotlout’s stupid helmet was some satisfaction as he prayed for the flaming embarrassment to fade.

“Son, who _are_ these two?” Mama heaved a long-suffering sigh.

“The king of Berk and his cousin.” he said wearily.

His mother’s hand tightened like a vise around his wrist,  _“Who?”_

When he looked, all his family had gone stiff and pale, even moreso when Toothless looked their way.

“Uh.” Zayd choked, “Shouldn't there be guards? Or porters, nobles,  _something?”_

“You're looking at all of the above, between us and the dragons.” he answered, a little smugly, “Though I must confess, he wouldn't call  _himself_ a king, only a chief.” 

Lantana bounded over the wall and chirped for Toothless to **follow** and meet their **kin,** which he did, slinking up and over much more cautiously. But the Furies honed in on Affan first, crooning their gentle, imploring **concern.** His brother jolted, stumbling right into Lantana as he spun on the spot.

...was he crying?

“Affan?” he called softly, untangling from his mother, “Affan, what’s wrong?”

“I- it's-” he stammered, “It's nothing, I-”

It obviously wasn’t. With two long steps he grappled his brother close, squeezing hard around his shoulders as he **asked** Lantana and Toothless to give them a little cover.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked in a whisper.

Affan nodded against his shoulder, shaking as he held desperately tight.

“Once everything’s settled, we can find somewhere quiet.” he steeled himself, “There’s  _nothing_ you can't tell me.” 

“...you mean that?” Affan’s voice was so _weak._

“I swear on my life. Now, dry your eyes before Mama worries any more.” he patted his brother’s back.

Affan sniffled and quickly scrubbed his face, at least until Lantana thrust her snout into his hands. She nuzzled him so sweetly, offering what comfort she could but Toothless was more interested in their mother, and now Zayd’s children. But the twins soon had him rearing up in shock, looking rapid-fire between them before nagging him with **question,** the memory of the twins, were his kin the **same?**

“Yes, they’re like the Thorstons.” he chuckled, “Oh don't make that face, they're practically _babies!_ Wha- where are you going? Toothless!” 

There was room in the workshop for their bags, and Safiyah set herself back up in her old room. Jarrah and his family would need the spare bedroom, and there was still the bridal party to consider… Thoughts for after dinner, he wanted _food._ Even if that meant Reza would probably show his face.

“So, Cordoba. We can get Jarrah, Inara and the boys first, then go back for Ghadir and her family- Oh.” he frowned, brows knitting, “Does Jarrah know where they live? We can get that sorted first if he does. Maybe introduce ourselves, warm them up to the idea.”

“That should work- get the onions dear- but you should be wary. Cordoba hasn't always looked _favorably_ on al-Mariyah, before Khayran became emir. We are an independent taifa now, there's been _years_ of politics and bickering I can't even begin to wrap my head around. One wrong step could look like a declaration of another war.” Mama’s hands trembled as she worked at the stove.

“We’ll be fine Mama, we’ve faced worse.” he assured her.

“You _best_ be.” she muttered, “The guest house at the mosque will be enough for Ghadir’s family, I’m afraid sleeping arrangements will be tight. I hardly expected a  _king…”_

“He begged to come, we didn't really have a say.” Eret rolled his eyes, “And Snotlout wouldn't let that shirt go if he couldn't finish it himself. I'm sure he’ll be happy to show it all off in the morning, he could barely keep still all winter-”

“Hey!” Snotlout pouted, “I _know_ you're talking about me.”

“Maybe they _are.”_ Safiyah elbowed him in the ribs, “No helmets at the table now.”

Grumbling, he complied.

Lentils and chickpeas and a _mountain_ of onions stewed away in good, strong bone broth while a few loaves of bread finished baking, but there was still no hint of Reza. The sun finished it's long track down to the horizon and their flock settled in for the night on the hill, and they finally sat to eat in comfortable silence. Still, nothing. Cassian sighed.

“Where’s our father gone off to?” he dared to ask.

“He… stays with Uncle Isra most days. He moved back from Cordoba almost two months ago, with Auntie Dalal and some of our cousins.” Zayd frowned, picking at his bread, “Father told us the truth, not long after you left. I still don't know what to think…”

“You aren't the only one.” he swallowed hard. Should he tell- no, not yet.

Affan said nothing either, still so quiet as they finished, cleaned, and prepared for bed, but he made a promise. He found Eret rifling through their bags and snatched himself one of the travel-blankets, that little cove could be perfect. But first…

“I'm going out with Affan, we shouldn't be long. He- _something’s_ bothering him, and I think he trusts me enough to work through it.” he said.

“He did look pretty shaken by all that, with Enzo…” Eret agreed, “Take all the time you need luv.”

It was quiet, dark, and he dared to steal a chaste kiss before finding his brother and leading him out and around the back of the house. Toothless had perched himself up on the roof with the Light Furies, Hookfang and Mars lay tangled together like cats, the Stormcutters were fast asleep up the hill, but the Shovelhelm was still wide awake and trundled over then he **called.**

“Think you have it in you to fly? He has room for two.” he asked, patting the dragon’s shoulder.

“Yes. I- I think.” Affan croaked.

“Here, have a leg-up. If you get a little used to him, you could ride with us to Cordoba.” 

He had to coax Affan up into the front seat before vaulting behind him, holding tight as the Shovelhelm sprang into the air. They wouldn't go so far, just to the nearest quiet bit of shore, but his brother still trembled like a leaf the whole way, even the dragon started to worry. They landed at a choice spot, dry and sheltered, where he helped Affan down. He spread out the blanket, they sat, and he waited. Whatever was eating Affan up inside wouldn't come out easy.

“So, you know.” Affan said, slowly, haltingly, “Father told you, about- about  _him.”_

“Yes, the day of the party.” 

“But, you didn't know before? That- that's not why you left?” 

“No, he never told me a thing. Affan, what’s this about?” he turned to face his brother.

After another long pause, Affan muttered, barely above a whisper, “I think I- I used to, or I do- did? Spare me, I'm so  _confused.”_

“Wh- Affan, breathe, take a breath. I don't understand what you're saying.” 

_“Enzo,_ I-” Affan was nearly hyperventilating, “I think I loved him, I don't  _know._ When you were gone he was the first to make me laugh again, when _he_ left I- I could barely get out of bed, I didn't have the spark to _make_ anything anymore. But I love Ghadir too, I _know_ I do, she’s incredible-” 

“Affan-” 

“We aren't even _married_ and I've already betrayed her-” 

_“Affan.”_

“This can't be _normal_ , I’m-” 

He clapped a hand over his brother’s mouth, stopping the flood of panic to be heard.

_“Affan.”_ he said, gentle but firm, “Don't you talk about yourself like that, I won't hear it! Not after all the years I spent feeling that way. There's  _nothing_ wrong with you.” 

His brother went still, eyes wide as saucers, so Cassian let his hand drop.

“You- what? But you said-” 

“I lied. Only partly, but I couldn't just risk saying I married a man out in the open. Didn't fool Safiyah for a minute of course, or our mother.” he shifted uneasily, “But  _feelings_ aren't a sin Affan, you haven't betrayed anyone. You still want to marry Ghadir?” 

Affan nodded slowly, swallowing hard.

“But you still feel _something_ for Enzo.” 

“I don't know, it's all so _confusing.”_ Affan hugged his knees to his chest, “I wanted to kill him for leaving and  _kiss_ him for coming back. But I can't have them both.” 

“No… Certainly not by going behind Ghadir’s back, that wouldn't be fair-” 

“I would _never!”_ Affan snapped.

“Let me _finish._ That wouldn't be fair to _any_ of you. But I've knows couples to take another, sometimes both together, sometimes just one, but always with the agreement of _everyone_ involved.” he drew a steeling breath, “I can't promise it's possible, only that it  _has_ worked for others. But Enzo, he… he came to Berk chasing _me,_ desperate as a fairy tale. I don't know if he would return your feelings, if you even wanted something to come of this. Nothing _has_ to happen Affan.” 

Affan flopped back bonelessly, so he laid himself out too. He was so _tired._

“I wouldn't even know where to start…” Affan mumbled.

“Well, he _did_ forget his bag. There will be time in the morning when we make our first run to Cordoba, you could take it to him. And an apology _might_ be in order.” he winced, “Snotlout will probably want to kidnap you to work on that shirt too. I'll make sure Safiyah keeps him on a tight leash.”

“What were you shouting at him for though? Whatever it was that set Saffy off.” 

His cheeks flamed again, “He said you and Zayd were attractive.”

“Isn't he the one you bragged about matching Safiyah up with?” Affan half rose, squinting down at him.

“Oh don't worry, those two are plenty smitten. He just knows quality when he sees it.” 

“Which rightfully doesn't include  _ you.” _Affan snorted.

“Yes, because he was too busy making moon-eyes at my husband-to-be when we first met.” he snarked back.

“Not that _giant?”_ Affan shot upright to properly gawk, “How do you manage-”

_“Affan!”_ he swatted his brother’s leg, “You should know a  _gentleman_ doesn't kiss and tell!” 

“I’m just _saying,_ if he’s proportional-” 

“I will _kill_ you and make it look like an accident.” he glowered, burning with indignation. 

“Okay, okay…” Affan raised his hands in surrender, “But, this  _Snotlout…_ he’s good to her?” 

“Yes, he is. But you don't have to worry, _she’s_ the one courting him when they aren't nesting like doves to play with all that silk.” he chuckled faintly, “They’ve both been working on your gifts all winter, the only reason they can bear to give them up is it's all in green. Course, that's probably gone and put  _thoughts_ in their heads that I don't want to consider for a few years.” 

“They're thinking of betrothal already?” 

“They haven't said as much, but I can see the wheels turning. There are worse brothers-in-law to have I suppose, and the rest of his family…” he shrugged, scratching his chest.

“...you really aren't coming back?” 

He flinched, clutching a fistfull of his tunic.

“It's not safe for us, not now. I don't want to live in constant _fear_ again, but-” he lurched upright, “I’m planning on talking to the emir, somehow. I'm  _sure_ I could at least strike a spark, make him consider alternatives. With Uncle Isra here, he might know a way…” 

“That sounds dangerous.” Affan said quietly.

“Maybe. But that’s what dragons are for.” he sighed, “The rewards are just too great to never try. For me, for our father, and everyone like him. Like  _us.”_

“You… you won't tell, will you?” Affan asked after a time, voice wavering.

“No, not even _Safiyah._ It's not my right.” he said firmly, “But you can always talk to me, or Eret, even Saffy will understand. But, I’m sure you’ll find Enzo doesn't take  _hints_ very well.” 

“Oh don't worry, I know. Great daft donkey’s ass that he is…” Affan sighed, “How did that even  _happen._ Him, of all people…” 

“The heart is a fickle thing, but it can give you the strength to move mountains. I wouldn't change that for the world.” 

“When did _you_ turn philosopher?” Affan rolled his eyes, probably.

“When _you_ stopped trying to smother me in my sleep” 

“Did _not!”_

“I _know_ it was you-” 

God's mercy it was so good to just _talk_ to his brother again, but he was utterly exhausted. Before long they returned home aboard the Shovelhelm and slogged to bed, where he fell to sleep hard and fast. At least they could afford a late start…

Morning came all too soon. Eret set it upon himself to rouse Hiccup and Snotlout for a trip to the baths, where a long, hot soak drove the ache from their bones. It wouldn't do to show up in Cordoba all scruffy and covered in trail dust either of course. Breakfast was ready by the time they returned, though no one but Mama was awake. 

“We’ll be going-” Cassian yawned wide, “-going to Cordoba, just the three of us for now. Safiyah and Snotlout will stay, but we  _might_ need them for a second round. And I promised Affan he could come for that too.” 

“That’s all well and good, but what was that ruckus yesterday?” Mama asked firmly, “Enzo up and vanished, that all but  _destroyed_ your brother and he just washed ashore at your dragon island?” 

“I can only speak of what I know,” he said carefully, “He seemed to be under the impression that I needed saving from my marriage, so he stowed away on my Father-in-law’s ship. We set him straight and brought him back.”

“Oh.” a _knowing_ spark flickered in her eyes, “Well, he’ll be lucky if Crispino doesn't gut him. The other boys have been working themselves ragged...”

“We do need to get going. Affan, let's go get his bag.” he sighed. One more bit of advice, before they leave…

Affan followed, and as they sorted through the piled bags he leaned close.

“Tread _carefully.”_ he warned, “The rejection will still be fresh, he needs time to heal and for that he needs a  _friend_ first. But don't try to strike any sparks if Ghadir doesn't understand, it wouldn't be fair to string Enzo along. I can _try_ talking to him, maybe. See if I can't work him through his infatuation.” 

“Thank you.” Affan hugged him briefly before snatching up the right pack.

“Oh, and the Shovelhelm can help you track him down. The Stormcutters will be more than enough for our first trip.” he added, “Here, let me get him.”

The dragons had returned from breakfast, so he **called** the Shovelhelm to the front, gently asking him to **smell, track.** The dragon hesitated for only a moment, Affan’s hopeful eyes soon had it relenting, grumbling **agreement.** It sniffed the air, then the ground, trundling slowly downhill with Affan hot on it's heels. For _his_ sake, Cassian hoped this could work. Somehow. But there were dragons to saddle.

“So, two hours to Cordoba?” Hiccup asked, adjusting a few of Toothless’s cables.

“Maybe? I've never _flown_ there, but Furies and Stormcutters are swift. It shouldn't take terribly long.” he answered, “We’re going northwest, and we need to go to the west gate.”

The dust-blue Stormcutter wiggled and stretched to test his straps, while Eret finished with his rust-red mate. Good, they were ready, and dressed to impress in their scale vests. As annoying as it was to have their supplies pilfered, Hiccup’s new black-and-gold vest and thick studded belt were _quite_ fetching. He might have to craft a little something like that for himself-

 **Oggling the** **_chief?_ ** **Whatever would Astrid think?** Eret prodded. Cheeky bastard.

 **Oh hush. I’m married, but not** **_blind_ ** **and I'll call a spade a spade** he elbowed his husband as they crossed paths, **besides, that would look better on** **_you._ **

Eret flushed, so faintly only he would’ve noticed as he shuffled back to Lantana. Both Furies shared a long, **exasperated** huff as Cassian threw himself into the saddle, still aching all over as they rose for an easy takeoff around the hill. They would have to be careful out there…

His wedding ring hung heavy around his neck, warm as an ember by his heart.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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The Qivir River shone bright, nestling Cordoba in it's bends. The walls here were higher, the Alhambra grander, even from here Cassian could see the minarets of 30 mosques and that wasn't _half_ of them. But they wanted the blue-tiled one, with the green roof by the west gate. Oh dear... the Stormcutters would be far too big to walk in like the Furies, and the streets were far too narrow to land in. Couldn't risk drawing any ire, those two would have to stay aloft for the time being. But the wind was in their favor, they could circle endlessly if they had a mind to. Or at least until Jarrah gave them a heading to Ghadir’s house, and they _found_ Jarah. ‘By the mosque’ was not nearly as clear an instruction as his brother made it seem. The roads outside the walls weren’t so busy, so there was no trouble landing and they rode freely forward, they were visitors after all, not brigands. No one stopped them at the gate or inside the walls, but crowds parted to give them a wide berth. He dismounted first, stretching out his aching back while surreptitiously scanning the street. People stared of course, guards watched from the parapets, and children stared in _awe._

“Maybe Jarrah can give us a tour while we’re here.” he thought aloud, “Cordoba’s libraries are famous the world over, the mosques the most stunning, and their palace, the Alhambra- well, I’ve only heard stories. Indoor rivers, ponds of golden fish, marble floors and singing mechanical birds in trees of copper, laden with gemstone fruit…”

“A library sounds worth a look.” Hiccup said, “So, where are we heading first?”

He scanned the skyline again, finally spotting a patina-green roof between the rest.

“There! This way, we can ask around if we must. Though, if he has a workshop he’ll most likely be closer to the walls.”

It took a few nudges to get Scarab moving, there was just too much to _look_ at. **Come** he urged, we’re here for **kin.** The Fury relented, rolling up against Lantana’s side once Eret was out of the saddle and trailing behind as he led the way. The dragons walked tucked close together, tails entwined as he tried to explain what he could. He'd only been to Cordoba once, near 15 years ago, and so much had changed. That, and he hadn’t really been able to go out and about at ten years old. The side streets were still narrow though, _too_ narrow, they should stick to the main thoroughfares as much as possible. 

“So, there are public fountains at every major square, and some say there are _300_ bath houses. I think it's more like 100, depends on how you count them.” he shrugged.

“Any fancier than the ones back home?” Eret asked with a teasing edge.

“I’d bet good money on it, _especially_ in the Alhambra. What I wouldn't give to see that…” he sighed wistfully, “Marble pools, gold tiles, the _finest_ soaps and oils…”

 _“Nadder.”_ Eret jabbed him in the ribs.

“Am _not-”_

He couldn't even wind up for a proper protest, Lantana jolted as a breeze pulled the familiar scents of hot ceramic and burning sand to her nose. She reared to sample the air properly, auricles flicking as she traced the most minute currents. **There** she thrummed, there, our **kin! Lead** us, he urged, lead **slow, careful, gentle.** The Fury leapt to the head of their little pack, pupils blown wide in eager anticipation. She pranced all the way to the nicely-sized lane, forcing them to follow at a jog. Cassian could smell the fires all on his own now. These shops were closer than he would’ve thought, but all were made of stone and slate and cobble, far less inclined to burn than the whitewashed stucco elsewhere. Lantana howled, sweet and warbling until shutters flung open all up and down the street. Voices rose in alarm, confusion-

_“Cassian?”_

A few houses down, his brother leaned out the ground floor window, with his wife and sons doing the same a floor above. Lantana hooted, scampering ahead to nuzzle all over Jarrah, before straining up on her back legs to call imploringly to Kadin and Raimi.

“Damn.” Eret muttered, “That’s a _big_ house.”

“Indeed.” he said weakly.

Their house was one of the biggest by far, with ornate high-arched windows and svelte columns, covered in glass mosaics and fine calligraphy tiles. The workshop must be out back, but how did Jarrah _manage_ all this?

“Hold on! Here, there's more room in the garden, just let me get out-” Jarrah blurted.

Lantana dropped back down, drooping as Inara and the boys withdrew from the window and Jarrah vanished in a blink, only to scramble out the front door.

“I- you're _here.”_ he hardly had time to brace from the arms that flung around his neck, “I was starting to worry, Ghadir’s family  _barely_ believed us. But, you have more than these three _,_ right?” 

“Yes, two more.” he shook his head fondly, “And a third back home for the second trip. They can all carry double or triple, plus any luggage, but they're a  _bit_ too big for the streets. They're still circling above. Come, before the boys tear the garden apart.” 

“Right. Here, around the other side.” Jarrah cleared his throat, “And, who’s this?”

_“That_ would be the chief of Berk I told you about, and his Night Fury.” he said a little smugly.

“Wait, what _?”_ his brother jolted, “The  _king?_ And he's just- here?!” 

“Yes, it's fine. He wanted to come.” he rolled his eyes, “Doesn't speak Andalusi, but he  _is_ keen on seeing the libraries. There are a few things of that nature to discuss.” 

Jarrah nodded silently, swallowing hard and shuffling faster. The far side of the house had a little more space for the dragons to follow, and the garden gate was already open. Inside, it was a _marvel._ Trees and flowers, tall sprays of irises around a pond full of jewel-bright fish, hand-painted tiles all over the inner walls… and a pomegranate tree in full, scarlet bloom. The Furies filed in behind them, likewise cooing in appreciation.

“Jarrah, all this…” he found himself mumbling, “How did you manage?”

“Well, there was a doctor of the Alhambra who found himself in need of a dedicated glassmaker.” his brother shrugged, looking almost _ashamed,_ “It should've been obvious, I'll bet Zayd would be all too glad to say he saw it coming. But… he made it sound like I could learn, that I could _help_ people. I'm such a fool…” 

“Jarrah…” he sighed , “It's not your fault that _he_ wasn’t honest. And maybe you aren't holding the knife, but not everyone _can._ You're just as important supporting this work, and _look_ at this house! You even have a pomegranate tree!” 

“Interesting priorities, dear brother.” Jarrah rolled his eyes.

“Am I wrong? And dragons are returning, al-Mariyah is only a few hours away on the wing. If we can get you your own, the distance will mean nothing!” he insisted.

“I- ah!” Jarrah yelped as his sons tackled him about the knees.

“Dad, Dad!” Kadin panted, shoving his younger brother aside, “You said we’re flying home, right? Can I ride the black one?”

“Hey, no fair!” Raimi protested.

“Boys, enough-” Jarrah squawked, stumbling into Cassian’s shoulder.

Luckily, Toothless arrived to lure his nephews away, and Jarrah righted himself as Inara joined them, straightening her husband’s clothes with a fond smile.

“Maybe those dragons will have to wait a year or ten.” his brother huffed.

“The bags are almost packed. I'll start lunch, why don't you show them around in the meantime?” Inara said.

“We _do_ need to see where Ghadir lives, let them know we’re here and warm them up to the idea.” he agreed, “Is that very far?”

“The south side of the city, close to the river. Her father owns some of the biggest leatherworks here, can’t miss it really.” Jarrah groaned, stretching his back out,  _“That_ isn't getting any easier… But, I've met her parents, Javan and Marwa. Wonderful people, if a bit stone-faced. And understandably skeptical.” 

“Always good to hear. Hopefully they don't have _too_ much luggage, we could take some back on the first trip if we have to.” he paused, “And, how many are coming for her half? Three obviously, but any aunts, uncles, grandparents..?”

“I think they were still figuring that out.” Jarrah could only shrug.

“Well, all of you could fit on one Stormcutter.” Eret said, darting to catch Raimi mid-fall as the boy tripped on his own feet, “Which gives us room for three, maybe four more this trip and seven or eight on the next.”

“Only one way to find out. How about we fly that way?” he offered.

The Light Furies perked eagerly, Jarrah considered… and nodded.

“Sounds fair. Boys, go help your mother. We’ll be right back.” 

Raimi and Kadin whined, but knew better than to argue and trudged back inside. Eret was busy filling Hiccup in, so he **called** Scarab over.

“You fly with me, he can carry double for a few minutes. And I'm sure the boys can take a spin with us on the way home. Oh, let's get to the street first, it's too cramped here…” he waved the dragons out.

Jarrah did follow, slowly, and had to approach Scarab one nervous step at a time. He'd done fine with the Reapers last year, what was so different now?

“You're sure? Will there be room?” Jarrah had paled a few shades.

“It'll be _fine,_ take the front so you can have the stirrups. And lean forward a bit-” 

At least they weren't both Eret’s size, or even Hiccup’s. He managed to fit behind Jarrah, awkward though it was, and still had the dregs of strength to hold on as they took to the skies. And they didn't have to go far before the Stormcutters swooped closer to investigate. The red female, Earth-Scar, slunk closest, bright-eyed and eager as she chirped **kin?** He **affirmed,** and there was more **kin** yet to meet, **soon, there,** and he guided the dragons’ eyes to the west gate. **There** they echoed in **affirmation.** But the tannery was close now, Scarab could smell it even this high up and-

“Is _that_ their house?” he nearly squawked in his brother’s ear.

Jarrah nodded, probably too tense to speak.

This was practically a palace, three floors in parts with sloping red-tiled roofs, all surrounding an expansive, terraced garden full of ponds, fountains and flowers. This was the home of a _leather merchant?_ How the hell did Reza manage? Land first, questions later.

Scarab had to coast in slow and gentle for Jarrah’s sake, and he was quick to get back on solid ground, so quick he almost got stuck in the stirrups. The Fury had a good warble-laugh at his brother’s expense though, how rude.

“Be _nice.”_ Cassian scolded as he vaulted down, “So, what’s the story with all  _this?”_

“They're official suppliers to the caliph, for about three years now. And that's on top of their normal exporting.” Jarrah explained, still breathless, “By all rights they could have made a better match for Ghadir with all that wealth, she’s their only child after all. But it's obvious how in love she is with Affan, and they love  _her_ too much to take that away-” 

A shocked _squeak_ of a scream drew their eyes to an upper window, where the shutters were cracked open an inch. Scarab crooned, joined by Lantana quickly after and the window creaked open a little more, almost enough to see inside.

“Ghadir? Is that you?” Jarrah called.

_“Jarrah?!”_ the woman inside shouted, and the shutters flung open.

She leaned halfway out over the sill, wide-eyed with shock to stare, and stare, and stare.

“I _told_ you there were dragons!” Jarrah chuckled, casually crossing his arms.

Ghadir darted back inside and he just barely heard pounding footsteps, then _much_ closer protests that drew towards the front door. After a beat it swung open and Ghadir stumbled out, dragging what must be her parents by the hands.

“Dearest, what in the _world-”_ Javan huffed, but he quickly went still, “Oh.”

“Oh _my.”_ Marwa agreed.

The Furies chirped a greeting and Ghadir beamed bright as the sun. She might well have been a living star, soft and kindly with wide innocent eyes that absolutely _sparkled_ with the force of her smile. And- funny that, she had those little dimples in her cheeks, just like Safiyah. But she quickly adjusted her headscarf, green of course, paused when their eyes met... and one of those _thinking_ looks crossed her face, brows slowly furrowing until Jarrah cut in.

“You never got to meet my youngest brother, he was... _away.”_ Jarrah cleared his throat, “This is Cassian, and he’s the reason dragons are on everyone’s lips these days.”

“Not _just_ me.” he insisted, “But we’re here to get everyone to al-Mariyah by the end of the day, once we figure out the seating arrangements.”

Javan scanned them again, with a touch of incredulity, “With…  _three_ dragons?” 

“Oh, we have two others with us, they're just too big to land in the streets.” he said, a _little_ smugly, “We didn't want to cause undue panic. There's room for about three more on this trip.”

The Stormcutters were close enough to hear his **call,** and at his **request** they circled back, passing slowly overhead in easy view so that their shadows spanned the whole street.

“There are a few more dragons back in al-Mariyah we can call on if the need arises.” he added, “How many are on your side of the wedding?”

“Well, _us.”_ Marwa said haltingly, “My sister, her husband, their children…”

Oh, that could be a problem. 

“How many? And, how old?” he asked, wincing slightly.

“Two, they're 14 and 15.” Javan answered, then added, “There’s my mother as well, but that is all.”

“That's fine, _perfect_ even! But, I'm guessing you're not quite packed yet?” 

“Er- no.” Marwa admitted, “Not completely. We weren’t  _quite_ sure this would happen.” 

“Well, Jarrah was going to give us a little tour, we could take who or whatever is ready when we go. And there will be a few hours as we make our way home and back again for you.” he offered.

“That should be fi-” Javan stopped short, finally noticing Hiccup and Eret, “Eh, who..?”

“My- brother-in-law.” he said, a little too quickly, “And my future cousin-in-law, if Safiyah has her way.”

“Wait, _what?”_ Jarrah stiffened, “Who is she-”

“You'll meet him when we get back, relax.” Cassian rolled his eyes, “But, here. This is Scarab, and his mate Lantana. Then this is Toothless. The ones aloft are Earth-Scar and Stormvein, the Stormcutters. They’ll be doing most of the carrying.”

Ghadir needed no prompting, in a heartbeat she was swarmed by the Light Furies after he carefully **warned** them not to get _too_ nosy. Toothless introduced himself to her parents much more calmly, and his tail garnered just as much interest as the rest of him.

“What is all this?” Javan asked, and he quite politely didn’t meddle with any of the delicate bits and bobs.

“He lost his fin in a fall, and couldn't fly without it. Hiccup _created_ all this, he dared to believe dragons weren't mere beasts and because of that we _all_ have flight. We had to fight long and hard to maintain our way of life, but warlords are gone from the north.” he reigned in a few boasts, that was unbecoming, “I got involved by quite the happy accident, and now we’re home. Hopefully, dragons can return  _here_ too.” 

Ghadir’s parents seemed unsure about that, but the bride-to-be, well. She looked fit to _burst_ from excitement, and that was more than enough to warm his heart.

But, they had to make their excuses and start the long walk back the way they had come. Ghadir needed to pack after all, and he’d promised Hiccup a tour. The libraries, baths, scholar’s halls, hospitals and forges, public gardens and fountains and markets… Cordoba was five _times_ the size of al-Mariyah, greater and grander- maybe just for now. Who knew what the future held for all of them, with dragons and trade.

By the time they got back, lunch was waiting and Jarrah’s family was ready to go. So they ate, cleaned, took up the bags and locked up the house to walk to the gate, and there Cassian **called** the Stormcutters. They gladly landed, and there they would get a little respite while he and Eret loaded up Stormvein’s saddle with the luggage. Unfortunately, his nephews still had it in their heads that they would be riding on Toothless, even going so far as to try scrambling up his back.

“Hey, Kadin!” he snatched the boy up under the arms, “You and Raimi are riding with your father for now, Hiccup is the only one that knows how to work the tail.”

“Uncle Cass-” Kadin whined, kicking at the air.

_“Maybe_ we can take you on the Light Furies, if you behave. _If.”_ he said firmly.

“They aren't as cool…” Raimi grumbled.

Lantana and Scarab jolted, huffing **offense** as their auricles laid back flat.

“Don't be like that, they're just _boys.”_ he scolded, and Tana turned away with a grumble of **insult,** “You're being a child, they barely know you! Come on, we’ll show them.”

“Can't blame them for not knowing what they're missing.” Eret insisted, patting the Fury’s neck.

She relented, however reluctantly. But it was time to go. Jarrah and Inara took their seats and strapped themselves in, while he passed his nephews up one by one to sit before them. There was plenty of room, Hiccup and Gobber knew damn well how to make a saddle and Father was quickly catching up to their skill. With that done he leapt over Scarab’s shoulders, Eret wrangled Lantana back, and Hiccup was already set. But there was this _look_ furrowing around the chief’s brows, deep and contemplative… he could check later. Toothless took the lead with Stormvein following close behind, and Earth-Scar spread her wings slowly, _carefully,_ at his **asking.** Even with so little movement, Jarrah went ramrod-stiff and Earth-Scar hesitated, craning her neck to peer over her shoulder.

“Uh, what’s it doing?” Jarrah asked, halting and nervous.

“You're stiff, she thinks you're hurting.” he said, urging Scarab closer,  _“Relax,_ we won't let anything happen.” 

“I'm 15 feet in the air, on the biggest animal I've ever laid eyes on _._ Relaxing isn't likely.” Jarrah ground out.

“Jarrah, I'll be _right_ behind you, and you did fine on Scarab! Just like Safiyah, and me. Somehow, some way, this is in our _blood.”_ he said, gentle and firm, “You can  _do_ this.” 

Scarab and Earth-Scar crooned their reassurance and slowly, Jarrah relaxed his grip as Inara patted between his shoulders.

_“Dad.”_ Raimi tugged on his father’s shirt, “C’mon, they're getting away!”

“I know, I-” Jarrah stammered.

Inara leaned closer and whispered in her husband’s ear, and the tension just melted away after one deep breath. Earth-Scar gave a satisfied chirp and straightened out to raise her wings properly, and they were _off._ The Furies gave chase after a few wingbeats and even from so far below they could hear the boys shrieking. But, _happy_ shrieking. Scarab settled off the Stormcutter’s left wing, showing off with a little twirl as Lantana drifted overhead and Jarrah… Well, he was _starstruck._ A whole decade of wrinkles and worry were just gone from his face, as Kadin cheered ‘Faster, faster!’ and Raimi craned to look around them. Earth-Scar obliged, rising up below her mate with powerful strokes of her wings to nip playfully at the trailing tip of his tail. Stormvein hooted in alarm, dropping his head to look back along his belly and glower at Earth-Scar, despite her chimes of **innocence.**

“Not so bad, is it?” he shouted over to his brother.

Jarrah swallowed hard, slowly shaking his head _no._

***

Cordoba… _what_ a city. It was beautiful, clean, ornate, colorful, bigger than al-Mariyah by leaps and bounds. And it was so _clean._ The streets were wide and open, it wasn't anywhere near as cloying or claustrophobic as London and he could deal with _anything_ if it wasn’t London. Sure he had to play translator for Hiccup the whole time and that was tough to keep up with, but the view was more than enough to distract the chief from _too_ many questions. And Cass… he just came _alive_ with it all, he was in his _element._

And Eret found himself _doubting,_ for the first time in a long, long while. Was Berk really what was best for them, for Cassian? He knew his husband was happy, but could life be better? If they could talk to the emir, make al-Mariyah safer… maybe they could extend their stays, bring dragons out of hiding like they did in Montpellier. If that tear opened around Cass’s heart again, wherever that led…

He would follow.

But for now, he would entertain Cass’s- _his_ nephews on the flight back home, and Lantana was more than happy to show off. She was _far_ better than any dull Night Fury, apparently. He couldn't quite keep up with all the little tricks and twirls that Hiccup and Cass managed, but they tried their best. Around the halfway point Cass finally relented to the boys’ demands. Once their lap-belts were undone, Scarab tumbled up and over Earth-Scar’s back so Cass could expertly snatch Raimi out of the saddle, tucking him in close as they fell away.

“No fair!” Kadin shouted, almost pitching sideways.

“Wait just a minute-” he started, before Lantana tilted away into more open air.

Scarab rose off her left wing, and **mischief** curled around his wiggling auricles.

“Catch!” was all the warning he got.

Cass and Scarab rolled over them, practically dumping Raimi into his arms before sliding away. Instinct took over and he snatched the boy close, turned him a little to sit properly astride Lantana’s neck, caged up between his arms on the pommel, safe- Safe, he had to keep the boy _safe_ , close, close enough to know that little heart was still beating _._ Eret swallowed hard, shifting a little in the stirrups as his heart raced and chickenskin prickled all over his body. What was this feeling..? There wasn’t time to dig into that just yet, Cass shot by again with Kadin, both hooting and laughing and Raimi swatted at his hands.

“What’re you waiting for, they're getting away!” the boy groused.

“Yeah yeah, hold on tight.” he rolled his eyes.

Lantana shivered with eager energy, but only poured on the speed when she felt they were properly secure. They caught up in three deep wingbeats and the wind whipped so fast he could only hope Raimi would be alright, they should've brought more goggles, _damn._ But the boy giggled madly, hunkered low and clinging tight to his wrists through all the twists and turns, swoops and dives, chasing back and forth. They even managed to get Toothless into the game. Nothing _too_ crazy though, couldn't go killing his brother-in-law with more stress. But the boys were still having the time of their lives and that filled him with- he didn't know _what_ this was. The exhilaration, a joy that threatened to burst his heart and that desire to _protect_ only rose with it, so natural and primal and _right,_ like-

 **Like a** **_father_ ** his husband supplied.

 _Oh._

The bolt of clarity stole the breath from his lungs. _Oh._

 **This is what you felt** he managed to string a thought together, **all that time-**

**Yes.**

Scarab slowed and the Furies coasted together, wingtip to wingtip. The goggles hid Cass’s eyes, but he knew the look behind them, that _yearning_ to be understood.

**Gods, I'm so sorry, it shouldn't have taken this long-**

**_Don't_ ** **you apologize. It's not something I could force, even if I wanted to. And, now you know. The roots of all this, that mess last year…**

 **Cass, that wasn't your fault** he insisted, **_this_ ** **isn't something to be ashamed of. Its,-** **_gods_ ** **this is-**

 **The most powerful thing on earth** Cass finished, **love can move mountains, tame seas…**

**Cross oceans and continents…**

Cass nodded, hugging Kadin tighter.

“What’d we stop for?” Raimi whined.

“We’re almost there bud, time to let the dragons relax.” he ruffled the boy’s hair.

And tender affection _ached_ like hot iron under his ribs.

The Stormcutters had to land around back again, and they would get themselves over to help in a minute. First, they had to release the kids to their grandmother.

“Granmama!” they cheered, shimmying down and sprinting through the gate on wobbly legs.

“Oh, my boys!” Nimat laughed brightly, kneeling to catch them, “Your uncles stole you away, did they?”

“Only for a bit!” Cass laughed with her, “Be right back, Jarrah and Inara are on the hill. We just have to get the bags.”

“Yes yes, go get them. Now, who’s hungry?” 

If only they were alone, they needed- _he_ needed to talk. But there was so much to do-

 **We’ll** **_have_ ** **time my love, later. We could go to the beach** Cassian’s voice curled so gently through him.

**Please, I- how could I not understand-**

Cass caught him gently by the wrist, slowly sliding their palms together then lacing their fingers tight. With a tug, he followed around the garden wall with his heart in his throat.

“You didn't have to understand, you _respected_ how I felt. That's what matters.” Cass said, so soft, so sweet, “And… now you've seen it for yourself. It's not like we won't see our nephews and nieces again, it's only a matter of time for Affan and Ghadir…”

He just made a small noise of affirmation, resolving to delve deeper, work this _through_ in private.

Hiccup was already hard at work with the packs but Jarrah, he was back on the ground, slowly stroking Earth-Scar’s brow. She thrummed with growing **delight** and **affection** as her mate inched out from under Hiccup to beg for the same from Inara. Well, how about that. The Stormcutters perked at their **greeting** and Earth-Scar chimed **admiration,** kin is **brave. Kits** are brave, Stormvein added.

“Hey, stop moving!” Hiccup groused, and the Stormcutter wilted with an **apology.**

“Coming chief!” he dropped Cass’s hand to jog the last distance.

Ducking under Stormvein’s neck, he started picking at the knots on the other side of the saddle, so damn _many_ of them. He really should’ve doubled down and insisted on doing them himself, Hiccup was no sailor unfortunately. All the while Inara scooted closer still and he could see the questions in her, but Stormvein leaned that last distance to sniff delicately over her head, even brushing his nose against her headscarf.

“Um- what is it doing?” she flinched back half a step.

“He’s not used to scarves like yours, but he probably likes that you match his lady-love.” he managed a little laugh, “The colors I mean. You can pet him, I dare say he’s getting jealous.”

Inara only hesitated a moment before stroking her knuckles along the dragon’s jaw, growing bolder when he purred sweetly. With the beastie mollified, he redoubled his efforts on the _damn_ stubborn last knot until it finally fell away. There were only five bags and he could’ve managed most all by himself, but Hiccup took one from his side and Inara reached around him to grab another. Alright then, just three. He half expected Cass to swoop in to snatch the first from his hands, but his husband was still caught up with his brother. They… deserved some privacy. It wasn't just the two of them anymore.

“Ah-” Inara paused, nibbling at her lip before asking, “The boys are inside?”

“Oh, yeah. _Granmama_ took them in.” he managed a smile as he hitched a bag over each shoulder.

“You get on well with them.” she observed, “Do you have any children of your own?”

He flinched, and hated himself for it, “Um, no. No that’s... probably not gonna happen.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry…” Inara murmured, brows drawing tight with sympathy.

“Yeah… Me too.” 

The luggage was inside, their family was catching up, and he had to help prepare for the next leg of the trip. They needed the Shovelhelm after all, and Affan would kill them if he was left behind. But he wasn’t home, or at the shop, or anywhere else Cassian could think to look and time was growing short.

“Where _is_ he?” his husband groused, “I can't even see the Shovelhelm anywhere.”

“Yeah, weird… How far could they have gone?” he agreed.

A whisper of sheepish **guilt** rolled off Lantana and they stopped short, turning to stare. The Light Fury fidgeted, pawing at the ground and avoiding their eyes.

“Tana, what did you _do.”_

She wilted. **Kin,** kin and **new** rider, **heartsick** she grumbled, **helped, showed** safe place, and the memory of the little cove flicked by.

“Lantana, _why?”_ Cass groaned, “No, get _back_ here we are going to that beach-”

She bellyached all the way of course, as if she wasn't big enough to carry double for five minutes. Once they were well outside the city and skirting the coast, he could finally see the other dragon’s **spark.** They really hadn’t tested the limits of that, might be worth doing soon. Just in case.

Once they rounded the hills, they found the Shovelhelm had perched high on the rocks, out of reach where it could still watch the men on the sand below. They seemed to have resigned themselves to their fate, and the Shovelhelm was far too eager to proclaim it **helped!** Eret doubted it.

“Down with you, _now._ Places to go, future family to see. Get!” he shouted as Lantana floated by.

It grumbled, but complied and fluttered down as they landed on the other side of the cove. Enzo and Affan scrambled to their feet, dusting themselves off almost nervously. What exactly were they up to? It better not make the wedding more of a headache.

“Saddle up, Cordoba awaits!” he said, “Apologies for their interfering though, they have a funny idea of what ‘help’ is. Oh stop whining, we had no idea where they were!”

Lantana properly scowled, turning her back on them. **Brat** he scolded again.

“I _told_ you I didn't make him.” Affan swatted the smith’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay…” 

At least Enzo was in better sorts, maybe. As far as he cared. But there was _something_ about the way they were so touchy, how readily Affan guided Enzo with hands on his waist, shoulders, arms… What about Ghadir?

 **We’ve already talked Eret, but the details aren't mine to tell.** **_Trust_ ** **me, all is well.**

**...alright. Let's get him dropped off first.**

It stuck a little bitter that there were family secrets now, even if it was _Cass’s_ family. At least Nimat and Safiyah knew the truth, he wasn’t a step removed like the rest thought. They were his family too… right? Lantana crooned gentle **assurance** as she turned, offering her back so they could follow after the Shovelhelm again. He didn’t like being left to his own thoughts so much. The Shovelhelm took them right home, leaving Enzo to walk his way back. At least he had his bag now and could mind his own business. For a few hours at least. But Affan was trembling with excitement now, absolutely _giddy_ with it. He must’ve been seeing things before, of course Affan loved Ghadir. Would he be this Skrill-struck if he wasn’t? Time to go, time to go, _focus._ Cass left to take his seat back with Scarab, but Hiccup elected to stay behind this time, with Snotlout and Safiyah. She offered to give them a proper tour now that Jarrah was here, but Eret had a feeling there were some ulterior motives, like getting a read on a potential _suitor_. He didn't pity Snotlout one bit.

Scratch his earlier complaining, he was _done_ flying for a while and all this wedding business would be a welcome break. The Stormcutters would have to wait again, but there was no stopping Affan and the Shovelhelm _should_ be fine in the streets, so long as they didn't garner any attention from the guards. Again. Cass lead the way and landed first, **calling** the Shovelhelm down and catching Affan when he toppled out of the saddle, half-tangled in the stirrups from his overenthusiastic rush. 

_“Easy,_ the house isn't going anywhere!” his husband laughed.

“Oh piss off-” 

Before he could even chuckle, the door of the grand house flung open like there was a hurricane behind it.

_“AFFAN!”_

In a few thundering footsteps Ghadir was _there_ and she tackled Affan clean off his feet, barely avoiding them and their dragons. The lovers fell hard and Cass doubled over with laughter a beat later, wobbling from it until Scarab caught his arm and he gasped for breath.

“Not so fun, is it!” 

Affan didn't pay his brother any mind, he was too intent on his bride-to-be, squeezing her tight while she- that _might've_ been talking, if she had suddenly become a dolphin. The high squeaks sent the Furies running like nothing he’d ever seen.

“Ghadir!” her mother finally caught up, “Get yourself out of the dust young lady!”

“Sorry Mother…” she mumbled, sheepishly hiding her face.

Was _he_ ever that bad? Cass really wasn't kidding when he said they were smitten.

“Up now, go get your things!” Marwa scolded, “You may be betrothed, but you aren't married  _yet._ You’ll be abiding the rules a while longer.” 

Ghadir grumbled, but levered off the ground and slunk back inside while Affan sniffled, scrubbing happy tears from his cheeks.

“C’mon, you too.” Cass huffed, pulling his brother up, “We can take you right to the guest house to unpack, though I don't know what  _our_ mother has planned. It's not so very late after all.” 

“True, but we will have some of our own organizing… Let's see how we feel.” Marwa shrugged, “We have a cart to get our bags to the gate, and the boys will be flying with  _you_ Affan.” 

Affan pouted, but knew better than to argue.

“And the rest of our family is here, they’ll join us shortly.” she added.

From there it was just a matter of waiting as voices rose, calling back and forth inside as… servants? Brought the many bags and parcels out. Good thing they brought the net and all that rope, it would take a little shuffling to get all this packed.

“A shame there won’t be room for the furniture.” Javan said, stretching out his back, “We can have that carted to you later, once you’re settled.”

“Furniture?” Cass looked to his brother, “Where are you going to fit  _more_ furniture?” 

“Well…” Affan averted his eyes, “Now that he’s retired, Crispino is moving to his smaller villa and he's-  _he’sleavingthehousetous.”_

He finished in a rush, and Cassian gawped. Crispino had to be a fairly wealthy man, that must mean-

“Wh- his _whole house?”_ Cass nearly wheezed.

Affan nodded meekly, “The rest of the smiths will stay in their quarters, but I-  _we’ll_ be moving to the main house. Which, _might_ take a few weeks. So that will work just fine.” 

“What’s to be shy about?” Javan chuckled, striding over to clap Affan soundly on the shoulder, “This is something to be proud of! Now let's march, before my daughter takes matters into her own hands.”

“It's _me_ you have to worry about boy!” a spritely old woman stormed out the door.

“Mother, please…” Javan groaned.

“Oh hush, I didn't live all my life hearing stories of dragons to turn down a ride now! Which one’s mine?” she snagged Cass’s arm with her cane as she got closer, “You'll have to take me there, can't see much.”

“Ma’am, please-” Cass yelped.

“Oh skip the pleasantries! Might as well start calling me Gran.” she chortled, “Everyone else does!”

“Well-” Cass cleared his throat, “We have to get to the gates for the other dragons to land safely. The ones here are ours, and Affan’s. We’ve already agreed the boys will ride with him.”

_“Ours?_ Who’s ‘ours’?” Gran stopped, dragging Cass down to peer at his face.

“That would be my brother Gran, and his- _our_ brother-in-law.” Affan gently pried her grip loose.

“Ha, another one? On let me at him, he _best_ be fit to protect my grandaughter!” 

Lantana rippled with **mischief,** knocking him closer with a swat of her tail and he stumbled right into the hook of Gran’s cane. She was a proud and stately woman, barely bent and still in possession of all her teeth, with all the spit and spark of a proper Berkian. Gothi would be thick as thieves with her, he was sure of it.

“Glory be, he's a big one!” Gran patted his arm, then shoulder,  _“Proper_ big. You’ll do nicely.” 

“Uh. Thanks?” he glanced uncertainly to his husband and brother.

They could only shrug helplessly as Ghadir and the rest of her family emerged, silently awed. Right, Marwah’s sister, her husband, their sons… tall, awkward, gangly boys barely half-grown. But if the stars in their eyes didn’t set his heart _aching_.

In short order the luggage was packed, saddles filled, and they all took to the skies for one last trip. Thank the _gods._ The second they were free he was dragging Cass off…

Cassian and Affan both led them to the proper building, and staff emerged to help with the bags, leading Ghadir and her family away. Poor Affan wilted, even with reassuring nudges from his Shovelhelm all the way home. By now Eret was _exhausted_ and the sun was well on it's way down. After dinner, he _needed_ to go somewhere quiet-

Cool knuckled brushed over the back of his hand. **Soon my love, soon. Just a little more.**

He nodded slowly, swallowing hard. Unpacking, eating, undressing, he did it all mechanically, managing hums and monosyllabic responses to any question aimed his way. Everyone noticed, he knew they did, but he just couldn't _focus_ on anything. Finally, _finally_ at twilight, Cass took him by the hand with a blanket under his arm and led him out back, where Lantana was ready and waiting. She took them all the way to that little cove, still covered with their footprints from before. Cass threw open the blanket, eased him down, cradled him close, ran fingers through his hair…

“I… don't know where to start.” he admitted quietly.

“At the beginning then.” Cass murmured against his temple, “We’ll work through it all.”

He swallowed, throat aching from how dry the motion was.

“It was different, feeling that all for myself. Even for the dragons it's never been that strong… I know it sounds awful, it's just- _different.”_ he struggled for the words, “And, you have your family again. They're all _here._ Will one or two little visits ever be enough?”

Cassian stiffened, “Eret. What are you saying?”

“I won't make you choose.” he said quickly, “Here, Berk, _wherever_ you go, I’ll follow. You have your family and I won't keep you from them-”

“And what of _Father?”_ Cass said, nearly scathing, “Should we just leave him on Berk, practically alone after we convinced him to move there? He's my family _too_ Eret, and Berk is my home. You gave that to me, when I had nothing. No future, no hope, and then you _came back_ offering all I'd ever dreamed of. I fell in love with you right then and there, and what _we’ve_ built is where my heart belongs.”

He crumbled, burning his face in his husband’s neck and he _wept,_ relieved and awed and so damn in _love_ it hurt. Cassian wrapped all the tighter around him, gently stroking his hair, his back, and in a blink their heartbeats were one, **resolve** burning like a star down to the marrow. How could he have doubted, even for a minute?

“We can visit longer.” Cass sighed after a time, “Maybe, with a little planning we could bring my family up one day. Might have to build a whole guest lodge to house them…”

“And only in the peak of summer.” he managed a weak, watery laugh.

“Yes, that too.” he could feel Cass smile against him, “Come now, dry your eyes. It's been a long day.”

He did peel away an inch at a time, eventually, sniffling as he scrubbed his cheeks and Cass waited a polite minute before leaning in to kiss him so _sweetly._ Cool fingers traced his jaw, coaxed him deeper and closer again, then threaded further into his hair…

“We might not be able to sneak away much more than this.” he rasped, breaking for air.

“True.” his husband kissed him again, and again, “But it's been a long day, and-”

He leaned closer, voice dropping dangerously, “I’d rather not have to explain any _marks_ I make.”

 _“Cass-”_ he groaned, skin prickling.

“We _are_ out under the stars again though…” Cass hummed, almost teasing, “That put some kind of fire in your blood, in that field on the way home. And the _mess_ you made of me…”

“Make up your mind luv, here or home to bed.” warm lips traced his pulse and he _shuddered._

Before Cass could muster a witty retort, something **skimmed** the edges of their senses, a voice too far to see, no more than a whisper on the breeze. Lantana stirred, auricles twitching until she finally rumbled her **unease.** She didn't know what it was, they didn't either, but whatever this thing was, it was _big._ No sooner had they sensed it than it was gone again and nothing more disturbed the waves.

“Weird…” he muttered, shifting uneasily over Cass’s lap.

“Indeed. But, perhaps a little _something_ will help us get to sleep?” Cass offered coyly.

His husband’s hands skimmed down his chest, along his waist, slipping around to grope his ass through too-tight trousers and he gasped, hot and ragged against Cass’s throat.

“Watch your mouth. No marks.” he practically growled, rearing back to strip off his shirt.

“Keep it _busy_ then.” starlight caught in Cass’s smug grin.

Oh, he would keep that mouth busy alright. He was only distantly aware of Lantana snorting her **exasperation,** scrambling up the wall to get them out of sight and out of mind while Cass fumbled at his laces.

***

The encroaching tide forced them home, though he gladly would have spent the whole night in the cove, and Lantana scolded them the whole way back. But he was loose-limbed and sleepy, all the tension was just washed away under Eret’s hands, his mouth, that wicked tongue-

 **Who’s the goat now?** Eret’s amusement tickled up the back of his neck.

 **Oh hush, I needed that. And you've gotten** **_damn_ ** **good at pulling me apart-**

Eret and Lantana both groaned their **embarrassment** and he grinned like a fox.

They landed silently, leaving the Fury to bed down with her mate while they snuck back inside to their makeshift palettes. Snotlout and Hiccup didn't so much as twitch as they slipped under their own covers, settled in, breathed deep… Sleep took them quickly.

He was used to the dragon-dreams now, but this was… _different._ He was drifting, weightless in the dark and the cold did nothing to dull aches, old and new, on phantom wings and tail. His face burned with a thousand pinpricks of pain, though he couldn’t find the cause. **_Misery_ ** was their only lullaby as a long chain of bubbles fluttered to a surface unseen, and an urge too powerful to defy made them follow to assuage the desperation in their lungs…

Cassian woke slowly, and morning light stung at his eyes. Eret roused too, groaning long and low as he rubbed his neck. It only took a shared look to confirm they had seen the same dream, more like a nightmare. But where did it come from? They could worry about that later, they _had_ to. There was just too much to do, today and all the days after.

“So, I'll go visit Ghadir to make sure the veil fits.” Safiyah said over breakfast, “Snotlout still needs to get the shirts done since Zayd and Jarrah kept us busy all day yesterday.”

“Yeah, they were _trying_ to be sneaky but I know they were checking me out.” Snotlout preened.

“The way one ‘checks out’ a fox near a henhouse.” he rolled his eyes, “But, no one from the Alcazaba came calling?”

“Only Uncle Isra, he was just checking that we were here for the wedding. He thinks the emir might send some of those librarians over, for all that scholarly-stuff so they can humbly brag all the way to Cordoba.” Saffy chuckled.

“We can handle that if it happens.” Eret shrugged, “We did before.”

“This _emir_ is the king, right?” Hiccup asked, not even looking up from his notes.

“Yes, he lives in the Alcazaba we flew around. We spoke with him last time.” he replied, “He is reasonable and wise, and so long as we don't cause any trouble there’s nothing to fear.”

“Good… I don't suppose there's any chance of getting in there?” Hiccup tried and failed to mask his curiosity.

“For us? Probably not. But maybe, for a _king…”_ he said with a sly, sidelong glance.

“You're still on about that?” Hiccup scoffed.

“You _look_ the part! I've already been singing your praises, so you might as well take advantage.” he picked at his nails casually, “Just a _little.”_

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You two walk me to the mosque, then ‘go see’ Uncle Isra.” Safiyah offered, “He’s working in the barracks, just ask for him at the gate.”

He looked to Eret and they both shrugged. That should get them somewhere.

In short order they were on the move, once Safiyah got the Berkian-sealed chest with the veil and all her supplies. Eret had to stay for Snotlout’s sake, but it was only for the morning. Only a little while. Toothless and Scarab followed too, glad for the easy pace and time to look at everything properly, all the way to the mosque.

And Cassian _thought._ To succeed, even one minute step, he would need to undermine and destroy centuries of stigma, the ingrained instinct to recoil in disgust… But it had been done before. Hiccup said it himself once, that he shouldn't make such monumental decisions alone.

Ghadir met them at the door and dragged Safiyah in a beat later, already babbling in a mad, breathless rush. How sweet, for Saffy to have someone nearer her own age… Now, he could lead the way up the hill, and they could talk.

“How _did_ you start changing Berk?” he asked slowly, “How they saw dragons, when they’d been killing and maiming for all their history.”

Hiccup started, nearly tripping over Toothless’s tail.

“I- what?” the chief shook his head, “Where’s all this coming from? I thought they were fine with dragons here?”

“It's not about dragons this time Hiccup, though the hate is the same. It will take the same effort to maybe, one day, see people like _me_ living freely.” he said, reminding himself halfway that he didn't have to whisper, “If it worked before, it could work again.”

Hiccup was quiet for a long moment, brows furrowing deep in thought.

“It started with Astrid.” he finally said, “We had to kidnap her a little, before she could tell my dad about Toothless. And we just, flew around, for a whole afternoon. She saw the truth for herself. But I tried to show the whole village, and Dad wouldn't hear it. We had to rescue Toothless and half the island from the Red Death, with every one of the riders on a dragon of their own. It took all of _that_ to convince Berk they were wrong. But, it still started with one person.”

Hiccup sighed, and kept going, “I don't know what you're planning, but think it through. You don't always get second chances, and asking anyone to turn their backs on all they know… it's hard.”

Cassian nodded, eyes training on the Alcazaba. It may be too soon, he needed to plan out what he would say, prepare for every possible protest and make his case… At least he could visit with his uncle for now, they’d been too pressed for time after the Caligula affair. He could- _should_ ask after his father too, even if he didn't want to. It was the right thing.

The last stretch up the cliffside steps was thankfully empty, and a pair of guards roused in the parapets above.

“Good morning!” he shouted, “Is Isra ibn Masud available? His nephew is here to see him!”

The guards ducked back to mutter between themselves, until one ran off across the wall.

“We’ll see, no telling what the captain’s up to.” the other offered a shrug, “Just a moment for the greenling to get back.”

As long as the walls were, it could be several moments. He resigned himself to the wait as Toothless and Scarab sampled the breeze, picking out flowers, fruits, baking bread…

“Where does the city get it's water?” Hiccup asked, looking up from his notes, “We passed that river on the cape, but it _must_ be too far to pipe enough in.”

“There are underground springs I think, and a- a _cistern_ under the Alcazaba, like a wide, shallow well. Or, a man-made lake, that retains more than enough water.” he said.

Hiccup hummed and muttered as he wrote, and cast another long look over the city.

“All this ocean wind… They could use a few windmills.” he observed.

“Eret said the same thing about the family workshop.” he cracked a smile, “There’s plenty of cloth for sails, but the rest might have to wait for more timber. I'm sure last year’s shipments have all been used up by now. Maybe, if you drafted some blueprints..?”

“Trying to keep me out of trouble?” Hiccup snorted.

“I _may_ have made a promise or three to Astrid.” he shrugged, a little sheepishly.

“Well, it would be something to do. Don't have much to offer when it comes to the wedding-”

Scarab perked at the rattle of armor coming their way, as the first guard returned.

“Good timing!” the man panted, leaning over the wall, “The captain’ll meet you in the garden walk! Just finished some meetings, he’ll be free for a while. Here, I’ll get the gate-”

The man vanished again, and he gave Hiccup a playful nudge.

“Not quite what I had in mind, but looks like we’ll be getting a look after all.”

After another measure and a heavy clunk, half the gate swung open, just enough to let them and the Furies inside. He could swear the switchback-steps were a little more level now, more sculpted and even as they rose to the box tower of the curtain wall. The gardens beyond were in full bloom, heady and sweet as any perfumery and it almost left his head spinning as they followed the long way around to the base of the uphill avenue, flanked by date palms. Where in all the tiers of cobble and greenery his uncle would be, he didn't know, but Hiccup had that _look_ about him, already absorbing everything in sight. The dragons wandered too, investigating strange new plants and flowers and insects and birds-

“Cassian!” 

He spun on his heel, stumbling right into his uncle as he was grappled close and _squeezed._ Oh, that hadn’t changed one bit.

_“Mercy_ uncle, mercy!” he gasped.

“Oh!” Isra dropped him, and gave his shoulder a pat, “Sorry I didn't come down sooner, been catching up with business here. But, I see there are some new faces this time around.”

“Yes, there are!” he chuckled, stretching out his back, “New dragons too, if the emir is looking to expand his records a little more. We’re just down at the workshop.”

Scarab leaned closer to sniff his uncle’s hand, chirping **kin, question,** while Toothless sat at a more polite distance to observe.

“This is like the other ones, yes?” Isra asked, and he nodded, “And, who is..?”

“The chief of Berk, his cousin is here as well.” he said with a casual shrug, “I sang so many praises of home they had to see it for themselves.”

Uncle Isra started, “He’s… important? Of a high standing I mean.”

“Yes, rather like an emir. He would disagree of course, he’s almost _too_ humble.” 

“The emir will want to know I'm sure…” Isra shifted uneasily, “We don't get many visitors from beyond the caliphate, aside from trade.”

“I imagine he would. But, you know where to find us.” he sighed, and swallowed hard, “And… how is Reza?”

“He’s… been better, in little stages.” Uncle Isra’s eyes dropped, “He told us, all of us, about that happened that day. I still don't know what to think but, he's my  _brother.”_

Isra drew a shuddering breath, and Cassian’s heart skipped a beat.

“I checked the records once I moved back, and it's the strangest thing. In five years, not _one_ arrest for-” he cleared his throat awkwardly, _“Fornication._ A few for adultery, but those were all brought to the courts first. I asked on the sly, and it seems the emir has just, _not enforced_ the old laws. Something about focusing on trade and taxes, _making_ money instead of filling up the courts with crimes for God himself to judge-”

Cassian’s knees wobbled like so much jelly and he barely caught himself against Scarab’s shoulder. All this time, quietly, unknown, the law had been passed over? He- _they_ hadn't been in any danger?

“Cassian?” 

His hands shook as he raked his hair back, “Reza’s not the only one Uncle.”

“...what are you saying?” 

“There are still whispers of torture and death for anyone caught, they speak of the 'old days' and live in fear of even a flicker of suspicion. No one _knows_ this.” he swallowed hard, almost choking,  _“I_ didn't know.” 

Uncle Isra was silent for a long while, brows furrowing deeper until he finally looked up.

“There are many?” he asked, and Cassian nodded slowly, “And they all fear simply… living.”

He nodded again, “All my life since I knew. Even now. It's the same for all the others I've met.”

“And for _what.”_ Isra nearly snarled, starting to pace, “My brother is a shell of who he was, my nephew can tame  _dragons_ and is terrified of his own home-” 

“Uncle, you're shouting!” he hissed.

“Because I'm _furious!”_ Isra whirled, fists clenched tight, “Do they not know? Did no one think of the harm? There  _must've_ been a way to let that flow through the proper channels-” 

“Uncle, keep your voice down!” he finally snapped, “How could that even be done without looking like a trap? Shouting from the walls wouldn't have helped either, what’s done is  _done._ Now we can do something about it. I already had plans to petition the emir for exactly this- I don't know what to call it, not permission, but-” 

“A pardon.” Isra supplied, “A blanket pardon for a crime no longer worth punishing.”

“I'll make my case, whatever it takes. If this order was pure practicality, then we need to be heard so the emir _sees_ why it matters.” he sighed, limbs growing heavy, “We even have great inventions to offer, if that's what it takes.”

He turned to speak to Hiccup, to clarify, but found the chief and his Fury had wandered off deeper into the gardens. Oh. Yes, they had made a bit of a scene, hadn't they.

“Oh.” his uncle followed his gaze, “We’d… best be after them. I doubt the emir has time for an audience today, so build your case  _strong._ He’s a man of means and ends, appeal to the good this will do beyond the personal-” 

Isra’s voice faded as that one idea stuck fast, the _good_ they could do. What did they have to offer? They were just people, so nearly the same as everyone else except they couldn't-

...oh. Oh _G_ _od and all of heaven_ that was it.

He floated through the rest of the day, only half-aware of the scholars flocking in and following them home like ducklings. Snotlout was still working with Affan, Safiyah hadn’t returned, they were needed to help move things to the mosque… all good, mindless work that let him think, plan, and finally fall into bed utterly exhausted. Eret had noticed of course, and the promise of ‘later’ had finally come home to roost.

 **What’s going on luv?** His husband prodded, finding his hand under the sheets.

 **Uncle Isra went looking, and no one’s been arrested for- for** **_this_ ** **in years, under the emir’s orders. Something has** **_already_ ** **changed. I don't know why or how, but I need to prove to him that this is right. People like us need to** **_know_ ** **they’re safe, and we have something to offer al-Mariyah** confidence rose high and fast, it left him trembling.

**...what are you planning?**

**Eret, what is the** **_one_ ** **thing we can't do?**

He could see all the memories of his nieces and nephews and _Finna_ flutter by.

 **Exactly** he laced their fingers together and squeezed tight, **and how many children are there, without parents? We’re a ready-made force to** **_foster_ ** **them. It's nature balancing itself, we** **_have_ ** **a place in the world if they would only let us. And how that would gild the emir’s reputation, finding homes for orphans and street urchins…**

_“Cass.”_ Eret croaked, barely a whisper, “How would you even do that?”

“I don't know.” he admitted, “But I have to be ready to strike when I see the chance.”

“Be careful.” Eret tugged him close, pressing a kiss to his brow as **hope** fluttered deep, “D’you think they’d ever- that we could-”

His heart swelled, aching and fit to burst, “We’ll have to see, when the time comes.”

They dreamed again, of pounding waves and bone-deep aches, closer now than before. What was this? If it was a dragon, why wouldn't it show itself?


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Morning started the real slog of preparations, and Eret woke still aching in bones he didn't know he had. The wedding was five days out now, they had to gather food and supplies but Cassian was stuck decorating the mosque. A shame, but... its not like they hadn't just spent all winter together. He’d be dragging Snotlout and Hiccup to the market for lentils, chickpeas, herbs and spices and more, Nimat had dictated a whole list. They'd start cooking a few days in advance, roast a tuna the day of, there would be so _many_ to feed, with the combined family, friends, themselves, and the dragons of course. It was gonna be a long couple days, but Affan was practically trembling with excitement.

That weird dream invaded again, floating and aching all over. But it _changed._ A dark, hulking figure towered above them, screaming, _bellowing_ at them as searing pain struck all over. Something snapped, a rib? And they wailed, blood filled their mouth-

He woke in a cold sweat and found his husband already rising, shaking and ashen. Whatever this thing was, it was getting worse. And _closer._

They shook off all those thoughts. There would be a little free time today since so much was done, and the dragons were well fed and rested. Cassian gathered his brothers to saddle the dragons and he would’ve been content to help Hiccup with all those plans, but Affan caught him before he would retreat.

“You don't have to keep hanging back.” he said, low and meaning something more.

“This just looked like a family outing, didn't want to-” 

_“Cassy told me.”_ Affan blurted, “The truth I mean, you- you  _are_ family, no less than Inara and Daniyah. And, they're coming too, the kids are just getting ready.” 

His heart stuttered for only a moment, and he awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I- thank you.” he managed to choke, “But, are you alright? With all the wedding stuff.”

“It's hard to sleep.” Affan confessed, mumbling and averting his eyes.

“Yeah, it was the same for us.” a small smile tugged at his lips, “But, it’ll all be worth it, when this is over. You’ll have a whole future to look forward to-”

Affan swayed, looking fit to faint.

Mama wound up joining them, taking a seat behind Affan on the Shovelhelm. They all rose into the air, coasting low over the city to the beaches and bay beyond. Cass and Safiyah chased each other across the sky, tumbling over and around the Stormcutters and skimming the waves, all to their mother’s horror. But it was so damn _good_ to just… be in the thick of it all. Part of a bigger, full _family._ At least the goggles hid the tears that gathered in his eyes. **Kin** Lantana agreed, purring like thunder.

The rest of the day saw more of the same endless preparation until they fell bone-weary into bed. He didn't mind it one bit, even when he was relegated to babysitting. Sleep came gently-

**Pain, hurt, hurting us make it stop, we’ll be good please stop-**

The towering shadow still bellowed endlessly, something swung over their head again and again, metallic and whistling, sparking pain and more pain. The shadow ordered and they **commanded,** they fought, they froze-

Waking up was like clawing out of a swamp and he struggled to even breathe through the cloying memory of crushing water, icy darkness, all filling his lungs-

 _“Breathe_ my love, breathe.” cool hands cupped his cheeks, and that gentle anchor was enough.

“What _is_ that thing?” he croaked, finally saying it out loud. He knew it bothered Cass too.

“I don't know.” his husband said weakly.

They tried to put it out of their minds, the cooking had to start today. They helped where they could, skinning chickpeas after a long soak or washing vegetables, but the sun tracking across the sky filled them with dread. _Dread_ he hadn’t felt since the armada. And the day wasn't long enough. Sunset came, then twilight, even the dragons were restless as they put off going to bed as long as they could. When Cassian almost fell asleep standing up, Eret carried him back inside. They couldn't put it off any longer.

**Hurts, please stop, please stop we’re sorry, won't bite again!**

They cowered, shrinking from blow after blow. Bones were already broken, their mouth was full of blood and their ears rang like a thousand bells-

**Enough.**

This was a dream, not a prison. On a whim, they were themselves again, human and rising to their feet and he caught the iron bar on it's next swing. **ENOUGH** Cassian thundered, and the shadow vanished into the fog. A plaintive whine made them both turn, and his heart stopped. It took Cassian a little longer to gasp.

The grey Bewilderbeast hunkered on the featureless ground, no bigger than they were. There was no sign of the wounds they felt, it still had both tusks… gods, it looked like a _baby._ All this was it's nightmare? How could that be? Why was it here? Cassian dropped to his knees, slowly, inching closer as he offered a hand to the beast but it keened, covering it's face with the broad fan of it's tail.

‘We aren't here to hurt you, we swear.’ Cass tried to soothe it, ‘This isn't real, only memories haunt you. Come, let me help. You aren't alone.’

The Bewilderbeast cracked one eye open, just barely peeking up at Cass, him-

It jolted with a strangled squeak, eyes snapping wide.

**You! Remember you! Master hurt, master burned, the hill on last-island-**

He fell square on his ass in shock. It could _speak,_ ordered and structured with proper words like any human. Cass was just as shaken as he was when their eyes met, and the Bewilderbeast shrank away.

‘No, it's okay! You just surprised me is all.’ he said quickly, gently, ‘the dragon-talk is a bit new, hearing you back at least. But, what are you _doing_ down here?’

 **Home, can't find home, lost,** it moaned, **no kin, can't hear them, see others, can't find them…**

‘Other dragons?’ Cass pressed, ‘There’s us, I think you were close a few days ago.’

 **More, buried deep, hiding** it explained, turning in frustrated circles, **they gather, they follow but stuck deep. Lonely, so lonely, miss flock…**

‘I know a place.’ Cass murmured, gently brushing fingers up the dragon’s brow, ‘We could take you there soon, it's a few days away. But the bay here is nice and calm…’

He could see flickers of Montpellier pass between them, then the waters around al-Mariyah.

 **Remember** **_that_ ** the Bewilderbeast chimed, honing in on their bay, **close, can swim.**

‘Do you have a name?’ he asked. It felt _right_ to. Drago had taken everything else.

 **Dreamer-in-the-Deep** it answered after a long moment, drawing the memory from old corners of it's mind, **almost forgot… Mother gave, Mother sang. Miss Mother…**

His heart panged hard, twisting around his throat and the Bewilderbeast crooned, **questioning.**

‘I know that feeling bud.’ he patted the dragon’s neck, scratching lightly, ‘Don't get _too_ close at first, we’ll need to tell everyone you're okay. You'll _be_ okay here.’

The Bewilderbeast sniffed, then crawled over their laps one paw at a time, flopping it's whole weight down to finally, truly _rest._ He knew Drago abused everything he got his hands on, but at the time they could only guess how a one-armed man was able to hold such a dragon under complete command. He’d _abused_ Dreamer from it's most helpless days, for decades…

‘Poor beastie…’ he murmured, stroking it's back.

‘So much pain…’ Cass sighed, hands trembling in the dragon’s mane, ‘Should we tell Hiccup?’

‘Definitely.’ he frowned, ‘Ask if anything felt weird, then check with Toothless. He might not believe the dream bits from _us.’_

‘Good point. To think, he was from the Imperial Sea this whole time…’

Cass tucked against his side, heaving a ragged sigh as Dreamer settled, purring lightly.

Morning was… fine. No sweats, no lingering terror, but they couldn't dump this on Hiccup with no warning. The chief was already awake and pacing in the garden, anxious, pale-

 _“There_ you are.” Hiccup sagged, “Saddle up, Toothless is after something. He thinks it's-”

“The Bewilderbeast.” Cass finished, “We know, it's dreams have been bleeding over for days. It's coming here, but we could lead it to Montpellier, for the company.”

Hiccup went truly, sickly grey. “Is it alone?”

“There aren't any dragons with it-”

 _“Drago,_ is he _dead?”_ Hiccup snapped, almost frantic.

Eret’s blood turned to ice, and he could faintly feel Cass’s gut plummet.

“We didn't ask.” he mumbled.

“Swords, saddles, _now._ Wake everybody up!” Hiccup barked, pushing them back towards the house.

Boots, scale vests and sword belts were thrown on half-blind, and Cass rushed off to rouse his family. They had to be ready for anything, al-Mariyah _had_ nothing but them.

“Stupid, so damn _stupid-”_ he hissed through his teeth, untangling a Fury saddle.

 _“Exceedingly_ stupid.” Hiccup agreed venomously, “What were you thinking?!”

“You didn't see what we did chief, Drago was beating it since the day he found it. It's _still_ a prisoner of all that pain, it never wanted to hurt anyone.” he huffed, prising a knot apart, “Dreamer’ll recognize us. This is our fault, so let us deal with it. _You_ hang back.”

“I'm not gonna sit around and let _him_ make the first move this time.” Hiccup snarled.

“And _I'm_ not bringing you back to Astrid in pieces!” he threw the saddle down, “She needs you, _Finna and Berk_ need you! We started this and we’ll finish it, whatever is out there. It's been nearly three years, Drago wasn't young, so odds are pretty damn good that he’s dead and we already told Dreamer to wait in the bay. This could be a _lot_ worse.”

Hiccup sagged against a table, “That was a low blow Eret.”

“Am I wrong?” he pressed, “We know Drago’s tricks by now. If he's somehow still kicking, we’ll blast ‘im. You aren't the only one that wants him dead, one way or another.”

His brand ached, old and sour, and Hiccup finally, _finally_ relented.

“Let's get that fixed before you rip it in half.” the chief grumbled, snatching the saddle up.

Activity was rising elsewhere in the house when Cass returned, finally stringing his bow and slipping the quiver over his back. Damn, did that all look fetching-

 _“Priorities_ dearest limpet.” his husband scolded, “Let's get all the dragons saddled, just in case.”

“Good idea. And, we should let the guards know. Here, let me get your hair…”

“Even better ideas.” Cass sighed, passing his tie back, “Everyone’s awake, they’re getting ready. We should be prepared to evacuate the lower levels of the city… just in case.”

“Yeah. But, what did Dreamer mean about dragons being stuck deep?”

Cass was quiet, thinking hard as he pulled the long coils of his hair back to bind them gently. It was so _long_ now, nearly at the ends of his shoulder blades. How time flew…

“There were those glow-caves on Tower Island and Berk, they had to be connected. Could they go even further, all the way here? How else could dragons be trapped underground?”

“Maybe if there're dragons down there that can tunnel? They clearly can't get out anywhere around here, maybe for miles around. They must’ve hidden a long time ago, and the entrances sealed up behind them. And _some_ must be alive if Dreamer could see them from who-knows how far.” he shrugged, “And you probably heard all that, but I made Hiccup swear to hold back. This is ours to fix.”

“I would’ve done the same.” Cass turned in his arms, tucking under his chin.

There was time for _one_ kiss… and maybe another. For luck.

Lantana and Scarab pawed anxiously at the ground as they worked at the saddles, and the Shovelhelm paced everywhere there was room. It, Hookfang and Toothless were the only ones on Berk during the attack, they remembered. And they **feared.** Hiccup worked over Toothless’s gear, oiling parts, checking and re-checking cables, fiddling with straps until his hands shook.

“Cassy!” Safiyah raced around the corner, “You  _know_ I was only half awake, what's going on?” 

“Maybe trouble, check Mars’s saddle.” he said first, “There’s a  _big_ dragon on the way.” 

“You remember the tusk on the rocks?” Cass asked, and she nodded, “This is what it belongs to. And we don't know if the warmonger that started all that mess is dead or still commanding it.”

“Why is it coming _here?”_ she hissed, stomping over to her dragon.

“We… kinda asked it to.” Eret grumbled, “Forgot to ask about Drago in the process.”

“It's better for Dreamer to be here, where we can keep an eye on him. He's hurt, traumatized. He _needs_ help, and we’re the only ones that can do it.” Cass said firmly.

“You're sure?” Safiyah asked more quietly, “If it's  _that_ dangerous…” 

“We _can_ Saffy. You stay with Snotlout and Hiccup, be ready to protect our family.” Cass drew a deep breath, “If- if the worst should happen, take everyone and  _run._ Warn Montpellier, then drag Hiccup back to Berk if you have to. _Swear_ it. Please.” 

He rushed to her, taking her gently by the shoulders and Safiyah sniffled.

“Only if _you_ swear the worst won't happen.” she grumbled, punching Cass in the ribs.

Mars cooed, rubbing against her back and Scarab did the same for his husband-

Lantana rumbled, auricles flicking as **something** tingled at the very edge of her senses, something like motion far out to sea… and below their feet.

“Cass, I think we’ve got movement.” he warned, though he couldn't see anything off himself.

“Yes, I feel it. Check the other saddles, I'll be right back.” Cass bolted back to the house.

“Wait-” Safiyha jolted, “Someone has to warn Ghadir!”

“Go!” he waved her off, “But come back quick!”

Mars shot over the roof in a flurry of wings and he caught the Shovelhelm to test it's buckles before moving on to the Stormcutters. Just in case, he reminded himself, just in case. But there was no time to waste, they had to warn the guard.

**Cass, I'm running to the Alcazaba, Saffy’s going to Ghadir. I'll be quick.**

**Go, we’re still getting ready,** Cass answered, **to hell with the rules, fly right in.**

Lantana was off like a bolt of lightning as soon as his feet were set in the stirrups, he lay low over her neck and she poured on the speed, crossing the whole city in seconds and… it looked to be early enough for the guards to be out training. The Fury landed hard, startling most of the men and- there!

“Uncle Isra!” he panted, “Sorry, no time for the rules. There's a  _damn_ big dragon coming, bigger than you'll even believe and we don't know if the bastard that used to command it is still alive. We’re preparing for the worst, but _we’re_ taking care of that dragon.” 

“Wh- how do you _know_ this?” Isra spluttered.

“We just _do,_ there's no time to explain! Hurry!” he barked, “You haveta get men to the lower parts of the city, be ready to start evacuating!”

With that, they were back in the air, streaking high and right back towards home. Out over the water, there was a _shimmer_ like the wake of a boat- no. Lantana could see it better than him, something was breaking the surface now. Great spiny spires, a mane of scaly plates, _damnit_ all Dreamer was charging their way. **Faster Tana, faster** he urged, though the house was already in sight.

The Fury howled a warning, but their flock was already calling desperately at the windows, **danger, danger!** And- oh thank Odin, there was Mars catching them up.

**Cass, he’s coming! I got to Isra, but hurry!**

**I'm coming, we’re almost ready. The kids are scared.**

Heart shorn and twisting, he urged Lantana down. They needed to talk to everyone, make some kind of plan to get their family out of harm’s way. He- he _couldn’t_ lose anyone else. Cass rounded the house as he dismounted with their family in tow, already in the thick of explaining as much as he could.

“...the man was a monster, but there's a _chance_ the dragon can be saved. We have to try. And there's Safiyah, good. Eret, you saw him?” Cass jogged the last steps over.

“Yeah, charging right for us and he was halfway across the bay. We’ve got minutes at best. What’s the plan?” he caught his husband by the arms, held him close, _to hell_ with witnesses.

“You and I get close and ask. If _he's_ still around, you fly back and pass the message on to Toothless, I'll distract Drago for a minute or two. Then we do whatever it takes to stop him.” Cass said, voice dropping.

 _“If_ Cass, if.” he stressed, “But that’ll work. C’mon.”

He gave a gentle tug and started to turn, but Cass lunged, seized him by the collar, hauled him down and kissed him soundly. Right there. In front of his whole family.

“Now is _not_ the time Cassy!” Safiyah squawked.

“Saffy shut _up_. Let's go.” Cassin took him by the hand, though there were only steps to go.

And he couldn't bring himself to look back. No doubt everyone was shocked speechless. At least, everyone not-in-the-know. Thoughts for later, asses in saddles now and up again, around the hill where the bay unfolded below them, and the Bewilderbeast had come to water so shallow it was forced to walk at a sluggish pace. Dreamer was only a few lengths from the docks, damnit all. But, as powerful as it's voice was, it should be able to hear them from here, right?

Eret closed his eyes tight and **called**. Dreamer answered.

**...dream-friend? Dream-friend is here?**

**Yeah, yeah I’m here bud,** he sagged with relief, **is- is Master still with you?**

Dreamer moaned low in mourning, **Master commands, must call, call others from the deep…**

He froze to his very core, while terror and fury in equal measure shone from Cass like a star.

 **Don't, don't you** **_don't_ ** **have to listen!** he begged, **you aren't little anymore, he can't-**

**Must. Master screams, Master makes, Master hurts.**

Slowly, the Bewilderbeast reared, threw back his head and bellowed to the sky. But it was more than that, Dreamer **called** so loudly his vision doubled and Lantana keened, so nearly turning, **obeying.**

“No, no Tana, _c’mon._ Back to the house!” he hauled hard on the pommel.

She wheeled and Scarab followed, both Furies shaking their heads hard to defy the call that reverberated between buildings and streets and hills. But when Eret closed his eyes against the overwhelming pressure of that sound, **sparks** rose in streams below them, like rivers under the city. Dragons in the deep. 

**Cass, under us!** his heart hammered, there was no sound over the thunder in his ears.

**I see them! I think- fuck, they're tunneling!**

Sparks that had stalled now collected single-file, five lines of them, and by some miracle every one rose to the bare hills above or below or beside the city. Something was boring a path, like a Whispering Death and they were _fast._ No sooner did they land again then earth groaned, stone cracked, and _dragons_ streamed into the sky to answer the call. Screams rose all around, but there was no fire, not yet.

“He's here.” Hiccup said, already knowing.

“He is. You and Toothless need to keep the flock from attacking. Snotlout and Safiyah, you check the around the tunnels and make sure no one is hurt. There are five!” Cass panted.

“Cassy!” Affan shoved his way forward, “What can we do?”

“Affan you can barely ride, this isn't your fight-” 

“It _is_ my fight!” his brother snapped, “This is our home too, I won't just sit around and wait!”

That took the wind right out of Cassian’s sails. Jarrah joined Affan, then Zayd, Inara, Daniyah-

“What do you need.” Jarrah pressed.

Cassian frowned, thinking hard until he relented.

“Zayd, Daniyah, Mama, go door to door and get people out. Jarrah, Inara, take the Stormcutters and guard them from above. Affan, go check on Uncle Isra then do the same for the guards. We should have time, Drago will wait for _all_ these caves to empty and they can only leave one at a time. We’re still stopping him.” 

They nodded and the dragons rushed to their riders, ready to start what resistance they could and the Furies wheeled with their strength renewed. **Vengeance** and **defiance** burned in their hearts, they sang it like a dirge that forced the wild flock to scatter around them as they settled into a long stoop, aimed right for the port. A lone figure, too lopsided and hulking to be anyone but Drago was making the long march up the central dock, probably celebrating already. It would be so easy just to blast him into oblivion-

But he wanted Drago to taste every _second_ of his defeat.

The Furies dove low and fast, streaking across Drago’s path and there Lantana loosed her fire. It fell short, couldn't destroy their landing site after all, and the explosion threw up a wall of rainbow flames to bar the way, lingering long enough for the Furies to circle back. They landed hard and he dismounted with an easy jump, drawing his sword. Cass fell in at his side, pulling the bow from his shoulder and a few arrows from the quiver, and they waited for the sea breeze to part the steam and smoke. Somehow, there was no room for fear. Not this time. Not with Cass at his left and the Furies behind them, shining with **will** that Drago couldn’t match before, and certainly wouldn't now.

Hoarse coughing was all the warning they got before Drago’s form lurched out of the haze, leaning heavily on a shoddy, bent iron rod. He was shriveled, shrunken, his old hide armor hung off in tatters, and a harsh burst of laughter left Eret’s mouth. _This_ is what Drago Bludvist had been reduced to? Maybe there was some justice in the world.

“Drago!” he crowed, mocking already, “Fancy seeing you here! Been a few years I think.”

“What?” the old man croaked, and then he went ashen, “No, no it can't be…”

“Oh, but it _is.”_ he sneered, “You picked the wrong city my friend, and we’re finishing the job _properly_ this time.”

Drago shook his head, nasty ropes of matted hair swaying along until he looked up once more.

“Two against one is hardly fair, boy.” the bastard chuckled darkly, shifting his great weight.

“Since when did _you_ care about what was fair?” he rolled his eyes, “Cass, just shoot-”

Drago lurched, hefting his makeshift cane to swing it over his head in great arcs as he screamed bloody murder and Dreamer jolted, before going slack with submission and dropping to all fours. He nearly lunged for the bastard’s head, but Cass stopped him with the barest touch.

“I'll take care of Dreamer, Bludvist is all _yours_.” his husband smirked.

“Don't have all the fun now.” he rolled his shoulders and re-set his grip on the sword.

Dreamer slogged through the shallows back to the dock as all the wild dragons wheeled around him, hundreds and counting, and still Drago bellowed like a stuck boar. But as the Bewilderbeast’s head dropped, his lone tusk fell alongside the pier and Cass darted for it, rushing right past Drago and startling him from his fit. Eret watched, almost choking on his own tongue as Cass leapt aboard and ran the length of the dragon’s tusk, using his bow for balance. Dreamer raised his head a slow fraction in shock, crooning-

 _“What?!”_ Drago howled, “Just kill him!”

“Not another _word!”_ he roared, finally lunging with his sword arching high.

Drago only just parried, and shook from the effort.

“Too long I've fought-” the old man grunted, “ _You_ will not defy me, not again!”

“And I've waited a long time for _this.”_ he snarled, pressing back until they were nearly nose to nose, “I do believe I owe you a mark of my own!”

Drago stumbled, lurching to the side and he danced away from the next mad swing, knocking another aside easily.

“Insolent boy! I should've killed you myself!” Drago tottered like a drunkard, but readied himself for another blow.

“But you didn't!” he grinned fiercely as he parried, then forced Drago back again, and again, “And now you’ll die here like the _dog_ you are.”

“No!” Drago retreated, one step after another towards the end of the dock, “Your little _pet_ can't stop a Bewilderbeast!”

With their weapons locked, he spared a glance upward and his grin only spread wider.

“He already _has.”_

Dreamer huffed, drawing deeper breaths as **resolve** and **defiance** swelled, renewing his strength and spreading out through the flock.

“You’ll find Cassian _Eretson_ is no ‘pet’ you second-rate bilge rat.” he hissed, low and venomous as Drago’s arm trembled, “And Dreamer isn’t _yours_ anymore.”

The old man screamed, shoving him back and swinging hard for his head with all the strength he had left. He checked the blow and his sword clove the rod clean in two, but Drago lunged again, desperate and half-mad and pain lanced white-hot across his arm as the jagged iron found purchase. Before he could retaliate, Drago bellowed, staggered, and dropped to one knee, revealing the shaft of an arrow stuck deep in his back.

Dreamer hunched awkwardly, ducking low to let Cassian slide down the curve of his cheek, then the great slope of his chin, landing gently back on the pier. His husband stalked forward, and there was a new _enraged_ gleam to his eyes.

***

Cassian knew what was coming when the bastard started screaming like a madman, and he welcomed it. They couldn't let Drago turn the flock against the city, so _he_ would keep Dreamer occupied. If he could just break through that mental block, the dragon would be his own again and pose no danger. Eret moved to strike the old man down, but he stopped that with a single touch. The Bewilderbeast needed to be closer.

“I'll take care of Dreamer, Bludvist is all _yours_.” he smirked.

Eret understood of course, and he knew Drago didn't have a prayer. The second the dragon’s tusk was in reach he bolted, leaping on and scrambling up the slick ivory. Dreamer crooned **confusion,** then **recognition** and slowly tilted his head back to let him further up, all the way to his face where he tucked himself against the dragon’s cheek. Metal clashed below and Dreamer flinched, cowering-

 **Shh, shh…** he soothed, stroking the dragon’s scales, **he can't hurt you. He** **_won't_ ** **hurt you.**

**Can, will. Hurts us, always hurts us-**

**Dreamer-in-the-Deep** he pressed, **you are big now, you are strong. You can** **_fight back._ **

**Can't, can't, Master hurts, Master big.**

**Dreamer,** **_look_** **. My mate is smaller and he fights, he wants** **_justice._ ** **Master hurt him too, he was scared and now he** **_fights._ ** **We make each other strong, together we have no fear. Be strong with us, you can be** **_free._ ** **No Master, no pain. Do you want that?**

Slowly, and with a timbre that rattled Cassian’s bones, Dreamer answered.

 **...want. Want** **_justice._ ** **No more screams, no more hurting.**

 **He’s hurt you for so long…** he idly traced a scar under Dreamer’s eye, as long as he was _tall,_ God save this poor soul-

Like a thunderclap, a lifetime of memories struck. Dreamer, lost in the waves until he washed ashore and a young boy that could only be Drago found him. They were chained, fed goats and chickens that were likely stolen until they doubled, tripled in size, and Master came to them in a rush, finally caught out. They were freed, Drago climbed on their back, forced them to swim away, keep swimming, but they were so tired… They stopped on a beach, but Drago yanked, pulled, stomped, _hurt-_ They struck back, jaws closing around his arm, biting deep, shredding, blood filled their mouth. Drago broke a bone in their wing, they let go and Drago hurt, hurt _hurt._

They couldn't move for days. Drago returned with one arm, hurt them more. They would be good, they would obey, they _promised._ Please stop, you are Master-

Drago forced them north and they grew. Master made them hurt, and they grew. Master made them fight, pull ships, command, hurt-

Cassian clawed his way back to the surface, thundering **no more. JUSTICE.**

 **Justice** the flock all around them echoed, **justice!**

Dreamer panted, swelling with resolve and confidence, he was his own, demanded **justice-**

Before he could say a word more, phantom pain struck through his arm and he whirled. Eret was hurt, bleeding, Drago raised his arm to strike again-

Without a thought an arrow was nocked, _aimeddrawnFIRED._

The fletching shrieked as the missile arched, wobbled, straightened and flew true, finally striking home in Drago’s shoulder. He didn't even have to ask, Dreamer was already lowering his head and Cassian so very, very carefully slid down the dragon’s chin, hopping from spike to spike until he was finally on solid ground again. Drago was down, by the way he was gasping the arrow must’ve hit a lung. He wasn't going anywhere, and Cassian was going to _toy_ with him.

Scarab, **go** and **get** Toothless, Hiccup, he asked and the Fury shot off. Their chief deserved to pass final judgement after all. Now, wasn't there that story he told, Drago ‘lost his family’..?

“A beautiful shot luv. Dad would be proud.” Eret smirked, sword resting easy over one shoulder.

“I was _aiming_ for his head.” he groused, “But this is just as well. I can think of no one else _less_ deserving of mercy. Now-” 

He took a few jaunty steps, circling the prone old man without a care.

“Dreamer told me the funniest story! It seems you aren't the tragic hero you made yourself out to be up north. In fact, you were little more than a petty goat thief! And you only got the power you did because you were lucky enough to find a Bewilderbeast, before it was big enough to fight back. You _beat_ him to breaking and beyond. But all it took was a little nudge for him to remember you aren't bigger than he is anymore.” 

Drago coughed, spitting a stream of blood and curses that would make a sailor blush. In _Andalusi._

“Ah, you're from the east! The islands, if I had to guess from your accent. How far you've come and yet, still so far from home. And now you have _nothing._ Failure is your only legacy Bludvist, and all the songs of our victory will show you for what you are: a _coward_ that died on his knees. But there's someone else that gets the first blow.”

A familiar, piercing shriek echoed over the water and Drago wilted. Toothless was a beacon of **rage** and **hate,** and Cassian was quick to soothe Dreamer.

 **I won't let them hurt you, I swear it** he promised, **stay calm, they only want** **_him._ **

**Won't hurt, we’re sorry. We** **_hurt_ ** **before and we’re sorry-**

**Shh, Dreamer it's alright. I won't let them hurt you.**

Toothless landed so hard the dock shook and the air trembled with his fury. He took a step back, as did Eret, opening a path for their chief to join them. And did he _ever,_ storming over the planks in long strides with his face twisted in old pain and _hate._

“No, no I killed you-” Drago wheezed, choking on blood now.

“I guess all that salt pickled his brain.” he snarked, “He's not likely to move from there Hiccup, it's all yours.”

He drew a knife and offered it hilt-first, but Hiccup stooped, resting on one knee to look at Drago properly. The coward couldn't even muster the fire for _that_ anymore.

“You look me in the eye like a _man._ ” Hiccup snarled, and Drago only swayed deliriously, “So, that's how it's gonna be. Well, I'll sleep soundly knowing you're dead and gone for good, but you don't _deserve_ dragonfire. Eret, he's all _yours.”_

Hiccup stood, lurching out of the way and Eret’s face turned grim, resigned.

“You'll wanna move, this won't be pretty.” he mumbled, hefting his sword.

Cassian backed up another step as Dreamer hissed **justice.** Dragonsteel arched, flashing in the morning sun before parting the sinew and bone in it's path like so much butter. Drago’s head hit the planks a measure away as his body collapsed like a stack of bricks, as undignified as a monster deserved. But, he wasn't sure if it was his stomach or Eret’s that lurched, and acrid bile soured his mouth either way. This had to be done. Hiccup didn't turn back to look, the sound was enough. He just kept walking, and slowly tucked up under Toothless’s neck. It would be best to let them have a moment, they still had to clean up this mess-

“Cassy!” a stricken cry rose above the din, not Safiyah but _Affan._

The Shovelhelm landed well behind Toothless, crouching to allow his brother down, and Uncle Isra, and…

_And the emir._

Cassian’s mouth went dry. Scrambling to Eret’s side, he snatched the sword from his hand and wiped it mostly-clean on the corpse’s trousers. Even in these circumstances it wouldn't do to have weapons drawn. Eret got his meaning and sheathed the blade, nervously slicking his hair back.

“Maybe we leave out the part where we invited Dreamer over.” his husband muttered.

“Agreed. Let's get to a cleaner spot too.” he urged Eret forward, away from the growing mess. Hmm, they should probably get a dragon to dump this out to sea…

At least his uncle, the emir, and the thousands of people looking down at the port were momentarily distracted by Dreamer, who watched _them_ in turn; cool, passive, _observing_ for now.

“Cassian ibn Reza, _what_ is going on.” Isra finally said, more bewildered than angry.

“That is quite a long story Uncle.” he said lamely.

“I will need to hear it-” 

“As will I.” the emir added with a little more authority.

He swallowed hard, sharing glances between Eret and Toothless. The Fury didn’t have much to offer, he wasn’t sure why he bothered.

“That man was a warmonger, a murderer, and he relished in destruction. He beat this dragon and hundreds of others into obedience, but he- the Bewilderbeast, he never wanted to hurt anyone. I _swear_ it.” he said quickly, “None of them will, and he can keep the flock in order! That’s what his kind does, they are the  _king_ of dragons-” 

“But who _was_ he?” Uncle Isra pressed.

“Drago Bludvist.” Eret answered, “I trapped dragons for his army once, and I’d probably be dead at his hand if it wasn't for Cass.”

Khayran edged forward, brows furrowed deep, “I  _know_ that name boy, from whispers in lands to the north. How did _you_ come into his service?” 

“It wasn't by choice, if that's what you're asking.” Eret itched at his collar.

The emir… nodded in understanding, and his eyes rose again to the Bewilderbeast.

“And what are we to do with all this?” Khayran said, more demand than question.

“There are as many possibilities as you'll allow.” Cassian answered, standing straighter _thismaybehischance,_ “We know some of these species, but many are new. They can help with construction, digging, fishing, smithing, they can cut travel from weeks and months to hours and days! A dragon mail service even! The Bewilderbeast’s ice could open up a market delivering fresh fish inland! I wonder how much the caliph of _Cordoba_ would pay for a whole, fresh tuna at his table?” 

Maybe that last bit was a little underhanded, but he had to bait the hook. Oh, and-

“The caves too, could hold untold riches in metal and gems… _but.”_

The emir’s gaze narrowed. “Your wisdom has a price?”

“More like a trade.” he said cooly, “A few immaterial concessions.”

“And what would those be?” a coy sparkle now rose in Khayran’s eye.

“Al-Mariyah has the protection and companionship of all these dragons, the riches they can bring, _but,_ the caves below should be off-limits to all but a few. They could be dangerous, and these dragons aren't used to city life. They need a quiet space of their own to retreat to if they must.” 

Khayran nodded minutely in agreement, as if to say _‘Fair enough’_.

“The dragons should also be free to associate with- _almost_ whoever they wish. Obviously not the likes of arsonists and thieves, though they are not mindless beasts. They know trouble well enough when they see it. But no one may force a dragon into their service. Which leads me to my… second to last condition.” 

The emir paused his pacing and stared, unblinking.

“All of _this_ is because a madman wanted to conquer the world.” he gestured broadly to the flock, and Dreamer, “I will not let it happen again. The dragons may _defend_ their home, but they will never be used to wage war again, in this or any land.” 

“And if I _disagree_ with any of these concessions?” Khayran probed.

“On the first two, I'm sure we could reach a compromise. But on the last, I will not bend. And if it is _there_ you can't agree…” he drew a deep breath, “Then we take the dragons with us, all of them. They deserve a home where they can be friends and allies instead of weapons.”

Above them, Dreamer thrummed, almost purring his **gratitude.**

The emir still stared, “But that was  _not_ your last concession now, was it?” 

“No, it wasn't.” his heart thundered, threatened to burst, “But that is more of an addition to your own work, if my sources are correct. The dragons aren't a factor.”

_“My_ sources never mentioned you were keen on politics.” the emir said, “What could this last, mysterious concession be?”

The crowd was growing at the walls, around the port, and more guards were rushing down the dock. That was just too many people.

 **Cass, are you sure?** only now did Eret feel a twinge of apprehension.

**I can only try. But, maybe after a change of venue…**

“I must beg the emir’s pardon, but it concerns a matter that is deeply personal. Once, I would have been _arrested_ for it, or so they say. But in the years I've been gone, that seems to have changed.” he shot the emir a _knowing_ look.

And was met with something… curious. Khayran was quiet for a moment as his eyes turned to Eret and there was a flicker of realization, then calculation, before the mask fell back.

“It seems you have injuries that need tending.” Khayran said, almost casually, “I'll have my physician see to you, if we might get a lift back. Captain, you have the men restore order, keep everyone calm and indoors for now. You  _can_ get this rabble sorted once we’re through, yes?” 

The emir almost _smirked_ at them, and he rose to the bait.

“No need to wait at all!” he replied, preening a little.

 **Dreamer?** he called gently, **can you tell them they’re safe? They can go wherever they want, but they should stay close- oh, and no perching on buildings! They aren't made for dragons, it wouldn’t be safe for the humans inside. And no eating anything in the city for now, you can hunt in the sea.**

Dreamer nodded slowly, crooning his message back to the flock and after a moment, they all filtered away to land on the beaches, the hills, and bigger streets. He did take a little satisfaction in the shock _that_ left on his Uncle’s face, and the emir’s too. It was a shame all the documentation would have to wait, there were so many new dragons… but his goal was so _tantalizingly_ close. He should check with Hiccup first, before they went. The chief hadn’t moved from the bundle of Toothless’s wings, and the pain between them was obvious even without dragonspeak.

“I just need one moment, we’ll be along shortly.” he said, not even looking.

Toothless pointedly ignored him and Dreamer, but still allowed him close enough to speak.

“Hiccup?” he asked, as loud as he dared, “Will you be alright?”

“I should've killed him when I had the chance.” Hiccup croaked, and Toothless’s croon deepened.

“...we can't change the past Hiccup, and you did the best you could. It's over now, and this was only possible _because_ of you.” he bit back the next thing to come to mind. It wasn't his place to speak of Stoick, the battle, what was lost-

 **We hurt. We are sorry, to the end of the sea, to the top of the sky. Didn't- didn't** **_want-_ **

Hiccup and Toothless both went stiff as iron and Dreamer trailed into a mourning keen, soft as a whisper. It was Hiccup that moved first, peeling away and staggering to the end of the dock, skirting Drago’s corpse. The Bewilderbeast hunkered low, head bowed, close enough for the chief to lay a hand on the dragon’s chin.

“He- he _made_ you do it.” Hiccup said weakly, “He made you.”

Scarab **called** him, the others were ready to go. Right, right…

“We’ll be back Toothless. Think you can help keep order?” he shifted awkwardly.

The Fury chuffed a half-hearted **agreement,** sliding past him to stand with his rider. But, it was _time_ , and their trio of dragons took flight. The Alcazaba was too close, there wasn't enough time to organize his thoughts, he only had _one_ chance. He has to make it count-

 **Easy luv,** a phantom touch traced his cheek, **just explain it the same way you did for me. He's already come to some kind of thought, that we aren't** **_wrong._ ** **Don't let that hold you back.**

 **I'll try,** he swallowed hard, throat sticking. **I love you.**

They followed the Shovelhelm down to the highest level of the Alcazaba, the same terraced garden from their last visit. It was shockingly empty, except for an attendant that rushed out to help the emir down, while Affan stayed in the saddle with a white-knuckled grip on the pommel. Oh, yes this would be a shock.

“Hey, ease up. You're worrying your new friend.” he patted his brother’s leg, “You were incredible out there, now go find everyone and tell them it's alright.  _Especially_ Mama.” 

Affan nodded, though he still trembled minutely as the Shovelhelm labored back into the air. Now, to business. His heart pounded as the emir eased down into a chair, the guards left, and the attendant raced off calling for a doctor.

“I just need a bandage, it's not as bad as it looks.” Eret insisted.

Cassian could feel the ache himself, as if the wound was his own. But, his husband was right. It was a rough cut, but not deep and already it was scabbing over. Still, the sight of blood streaking over Eret’s skin… it left his hands numb, weak and shaking.

“That was just an excuse dearest limpet, a clever one.” he forced himself to focus, but allowed a small smirk to pull at his mouth.

“You may as well come closer, I _detest_ shouting across this palace.” Khayran rolled his eyes, abandoning his mask of authority, “So, your ‘source’ noticed a law or three has become a… negligible priority. Now why might someone be looking for  _that_ specifically?”

“A personal connection, and an understandable fear born from just not _knowing_.” he sat on the nearest cushion, pulling Eret down with him.

The emir frowned minutely, “Fear, still? I made it known there would be no more arrests, to a few. I had thought that would trickle through the city, once it found the right channels.”

“With all respect emir, that sounds rather like baiting a trap.” he said carefully.

Khayran winced, and scratched at his beard, “I suppose it does. And that's my own failing, not looking for the insight I would need to do such a thing properly.”

“That is admirable, but you might’ve had a hard time either way. No one knows what information to trust, especially with so much turmoil around us. What if there’s a new emir tomorrow, and everything turns on it's head?” he cleared his throat and it ached fiercely.

Footsteps heralded the arrival of the doctor and a few attendants, and thank heavens one had a pitcher of something to drink. He could gather his thoughts, for just a little longer. A table was moved between them all, for the trays of drink _and_ food, but he forced himself to wait. The doctor was setting out his tools, examining Eret’s arm for a time before dabbing it clean. That revealed the extent of the damage, no worse than a common scrape. Still, _anything_ could get infected. A salt-wash cleansed the wound, and that stung something fierce, but a few dabs of clove oil followed to dull the pain and Eret’s arm was soon wrapped neatly in clean white linen. The sight settled Cassian’s heart, and soon they were alone again. But there was enough respite to slake his thirst, steady his nerves, _focus._

“You have yet to state your last concession.” Khayran prodded.

“I must confess, I didn't think I would get this far.” he chuckled nervously, “I didn't know about the laws until a few days ago, so much of my proposal has become redundant. And maybe it's naive, but I believe  _more_ can be done, in stages. That people like us have a purpose, something to offer. The one weakness of our nature is our _strength.”_

Khayran leaned forward a fraction, chin resting in his hand. Time for the baited hook.

“How many orphans are there, in al-Mariyah? How many children in the streets with no home?” 

The emir was a clever man, and his brows twitched as he ran the numbers, put the pieces together.

“I see. Forgoing a traditional life to foster children already born. That would certainly get troublemakers out of the market, cut down petty crime…” Khayran’s eyes narrowed a fraction, “But there are some who would doubt such a thing is possible, or even natural.”

“Many things are ‘natural’ that we wish weren’t so.” his pulse rose, “Floods, fires, biting flies and swarms of locusts.  _Worms_ that infest man and beast and starve them from the inside. All of those are _natural._ How could two fathers be worse for a child than none? Or two mothers? And it's not like our families cease to exist. Aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, family that welcomes you with open arms doesn't need blood ties to be real!” 

He bit his tongue. This was getting too loud, that wouldn't do.

“That's quite a claim.” Khayran said, taking a long drink, “What proof do you have?”

“I have none.” he slumped, “Only what I know in my heart to be true. This concession may be a selfish desire at it's core, but I don't expect to see the fruits of it in my lifetime. It's… only an idea. I know the world can only change so much without cracking.”

His gaze fell, and for lack of anything else to say he drained his cup, almost choking on the berries that flavored the water. And silence settled. He couldn't bring himself to look. Eret and the Furies were his only reassurance. 

_“All_ these concessions will need careful review.” the emir finally said, “Though, the first two were likely to come about on their own time. Will you be available in the next few days?”

“We are here a few days more.” he murmured, “We came for my brother’s wedding. The day after next. We were going to leave soon after, the chief can't stay long.”

“If terms can be reached, I'll send for you.” the emir said, “Now, I believe our city needs a little help organizing all… this.”

He nodded slowly, setting his cup aside to stand and join Scarab again. But his heart didn't have time to sink.

 **_Cass,_ ** Eret prodded, **wait up a minute. You missed that** **_look_ ** **on him.**

 **What look?** there had been many after all.

 **A look like Ruff and Tuff planning something particularly explosive, right after you said it was selfish. Which it's** **_not_ ** **by the way, stop that.**

 **_Yes_ ** **my love…** his heart fluttered. His husband never failed to draw that out of him.

But, what did that mean? They would have to wait and see.

Dragons still streamed from the caves to scatter all over, and he recognized a few from Montpellier. Sword Snouts, Waveskippers, Flutterkites by the hundred, the long and lanky Snipes and Hunter’s Banes, leonine Featherfalls… and more, so many more. Somehow, there were _Gronckles_ too, and-

Scarab hooted in alarm, rolling out of the way as a dozen shining blurs rocketed up from below. They banked hard, allowing the blurs to tumble closer. _Light Furies_ , of all ages and colors howled a greeting that Scarab and Lantana quickly returned. Then more… _almost-_ Furies joined them the same way. They were bigger even than Lantana, but smooth and sharp like Toothless, though a warm, marbled-brown all over. Or so it seemed, until one twirled and great round spots on it's wings and flanks, dark at first, glinted all the colors of the rainbow. Yes, he could distract himself with all this for a while… _after_ he checked in on his family.

Luckily, Affan found them all first and brought everyone home. Earth-Scar and Stormvein kept the wild flock from running amok around their house, at least until they brought the whole Fury pack with them. The dragons could introduce themselves all they liked now, Mama was already gunning for them.

_“There_ you are!” she dragged him close with a grip like iron, “Cassian, you absolute  _fool.”_

“We’re alright Mama, I swear.” he hugged tight around her shoulders, trying to mask his sniffles.

“It's all taken care of. The dangerous parts anyway.” Eret added, finally wrenching his foot from the stirrup.

“Oh you get over here too. Idiot sons of mine…” she huffed, though her voice was wet.

_“Yes_ Mama.” Cassian could hear his husband’s eyes rolling.

Eret folded around them both, and over their mother’s shoulder they spotted Jarrah, Zayd…

And _Reza_ lingered in the garden. Damnit all, _now?_

Zayd awkwardly cleared his throat, “Affan went to check the mosque, Saffy’s still out…”

“Oh stop scuffing your feet, the three of you.” Mama scolded, “You're all grown men, so act like it. Now, let me loose Cassian or you’ll smother me.”

...ah. Right. He didn't really think all that through, did he? Just, kissed his husband right in front of everyone and let the cat out of the bag. _And_ his father was here.

“So, uh. You two.” Zayd couldn't meet his eyes, “I- I don't know why we couldn’t see it.”

“And Safiyah meant it when she said you were our brother-in-law.” Jarrah added, “All of ours, I mean.”

“Yes. Under Berk’s laws, we are married.” he could barely get the words out, “It'll be a year soon, in a few days.”

He didn't know what else to say, but Eret gently took his hand, lacing their fingers tight.

***

Eret didn't blame them. It wasn't _bad_ as reactions went, there was just too much going on right now for them to process this. The dragons, the wedding… but, _gods_ they were his _brothers._ That still sent his head spinning. He had brothers, sisters, nieces and nephews and now they all knew- knew who _he_ was. But, that would have to wait. There was just too much to do.

Even hours later, dragons still streamed out of the depths. Most headed out to sea, following Dreamer’s promise of food, but many were content to wander the city. There were scores of little Fireworms scuttling about, no sign of their mother yet thank Odin, and he might’ve spotted a Whispering Death or three, some Hobblegrunts and another Shovelhelm, but everything else was _new._ The beasts that opened the tunnels were long and low-slung, bigger than a Nightmare with short rounded wings and a great fanned mane of horns like plow blades. They were half-blind and couldn't bear the bright sun though, and stuck to the crannies between buildings. Another was stout as a Gronkle with three pairs of legs and thick armor plates, all the color of magma. One of the most numerous was small, stocky, two-legged like a Nadder with a fat, squishy tail and pastel-spotted hide. Perhaps they were just the right size for a _child_ to ride. A few of those could surely help lift the spirits around town, there must be so _many_ terrified kids…

“Uh.” he stopped short, and Cass almost walked into him.

“What’s wrong?”

“This is way more than we left Montpellier to handle, even if you ignore the Bewilderbeast.” he frowned, “We can't just stick them with all this mess.”

“We _could_ send Hiccup and Snotlout home on time, and stay a little longer.” Cass mused, “But, you're right. Two or three days just isn't enough.”

“Let's see what the emir has to say, I'll wager he has something cooking.” he hummed, slipping deeper into thought, “There might be bigger dragons stuck down there still, we should try to get those diggers making another tunnel. A _few_ more actually, this's a serious bottleneck. Don't need any panic with them trying to get in and out.”

At their asking, Lantana and Scarab mobilized the mixed Fury pack to patrol the streets and keep the newcomers calm, and that was working well so far. Nothing was on fire at least. By late morning they found Affan at the mosque still, with Ghadir and her family. Cassian met with them to sing their brother’s praises, introduce them to a few dragons, and from there they moved on. Safiyah and Snotlout tracked them down within the hour and they _finally_ took a break.

“You can't avoid him forever Cass.” he murmured.

“I can a while longer.” his husband scowled at his bread, “What would I even say, that I haven’t already?”

“Don't know. But something is better than nothing.”

They leaned hard on each other, bone-weary already. There was too much to do.

The newly-named Drillwyrms and Whispering Deaths got new tunnels finished by sunset, allowing more dragons out and some back in. They could explore it all tomorrow, maybe. He was too tired to consider that now, his bed was singing a sweet siren’s promise…

“Come, you need to eat something. _Then_ you can sleep.” Cass tugged him by the elbow.

His stomach growled on-cue, so he relented.

It was quiet around the table, even Safiyah was too worn to do anything but pick at her food, and Reza… was absent. He shouldn't have been surprised. Jarrah and Zayd spent the better part of half and hour kicking each other under the table, and if _he_ noticed, their mother surely did too. Inara and Daniyah soon shared a look and dragged the kids off to bed, and Mama finally leveled a proper _motherly_ glare at her sons.

“Do you have something to _say_ Zayd? Jarrah?” she pinned each one in turn.

“Mama, it's not like that-” Zayd protested.

“Mom, it's really no big deal.” he tried to step in, “It's been a long day for everyone-”

“It _matters.”_ Nimat cut him off, “I won't sit by and let this fester again!”

“And I'm trying to figure out why my own brother couldn't trust us with the truth!” Jarrah choked, burying his face in his hands.

“Not _all_ of us Jarrah.” Safiyah nudged him, “Mama and I figured it out on our own. Your only crime is being older and too busy with life to build the same bond we did.”

“I couldn't be sure how you would react. Time changes people for better _and_ worse.” Cass said quietly, eyes boring into the table, “I had to think of our safety first. Though, apparently that’s not an issue anymore, as told by the emir himself.”

“What?” Mama jolted, “How do you know this?”

“Uncle Isra went looking, he noticed there hasn't been a single arrest in years. I don't know why, or for what reason, or how altruistic his motives are. But something’s changing, like a tide going still before it withdraws.” Cass drew a shaking breath, “I had to strike while the iron was hot and with the dragons as leverage, whatever this is… it won't stop.”

“Wait, that's what the meeting at the Alcazaba was for?” Affan blurted.

_“What_ meeting at the Alcazaba?” Jarrah went ramrod straight.

“Oh, yes you _did_ miss Affan playing ferryman for emir Khayran.” Cass managed to crack a smile, “You'll have to tell me how  _that_ happened later. But I made one last suggestion to go with the rest. We have a capacity to serve society, as no one else really can. Now it's just up to the emir to decide.” 

“You were making _demands_ of the emir?” Zayd gawped.

“More like suggestions.” he said, “He practically agreed on the spot with half of them. Only one is up for real debate I think, on their end. We won't just let dragons be used for war again.”

“Again?” Jarrah echoed uneasily.

“The man we killed down there turned that huge dragon into a weapon. It's kind can force other dragons to do whatever it wants, and the Bewilderbeast was forced to turn Toothless against Hiccup the first time we faced him.” he frowned hard, but Cass took his hand under the table, “It was Hiccup’s father that died that day, saving his son. It was a miracle there was anything to bury.”

“Eret, you don't have to-” his husband whispered.

“Cass, it's alright. Really.” he did pause to take a drink, “I've seen what happens, over and over again when power goes to a man’s head and he has the muscle to back his ambition. Cities burn and people die, and you aren't safe working for them either.”

They would understand right? His hands shook as he pulled the laces open at his collar, tugging the shirt down to bare a fraction of _that_ scar. A dropped pin would’ve sounded like thunder, the room went so quiet.

“So, yeah.” he mumbled, “We have our reasons for that. Hopefully they'll play nice.”

_“Eret.”_ Safiyah gasped, and he couldn't bear to look at her. Or anyone else.

“I'm not proud of who I was.” he mumbled, “But now I can stop it from happening again.”

Furious, frantic pounding at the door broke that thread of tension, and Cass was the first to rise.

“Let me in! Hurry!” a muffled cry, “They're coming!”

Cassian bolted while he struggled up and after, and the door wrenched open just out of sight to a storm of garbled shouts.

“I know, I know- close the door!” wood slammed back into the frame, “I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go, they won't leave me alone!”

“Enzo, who’s ‘they’?” Cass hissed.

He finally stumbled down the hallway, and a faint orange glow bled through the shutters.

“Oh no.” Enzo groaned, “Please, you have to hide me! It took an  _hour_ to shake them!” 

It looked like the smith was too late. Dozens of Fireworms wiggled through the lattices over the windows, peeping incessantly until they could spread their wings again. Breathless and exhausted, Enzo put up no fight as the little dragons swarmed all over him, burrowing into his hair and under his shirt. **Friend!** they chirped, **good!**

“Well, how about that.” he huffed a laugh, crossing his arms, “Guess we’ve been looking at the wrong sizes.”

“They’ve been hounding me all _day.”_ Enzo sagged, scrubbing his face.

“What’s going-” Affan stumbled to a stop, eyes wide as saucers.

Oh. He _knew_ that look. In any other circumstance he might agree the smith was quite the sight, covered in glowing little embers in the darkness like something out of a fairy story. But, this was still _Enzo_ they were talking about.

“You will need to be careful with them, they can heat their bodies up hot as the-” Cass paused, “Hot as the  _sun._ I'll bet they could help with the silversmithing!” 

That got Enzo to perk up, “You think so?”

“Maybe you can experiment tomorrow. Affan, why don't you walk Enzo home? You can plan that out.” Cass _smirked_ ever so slightly as he opened the door.

Enzo slunk back outside, and Affan paused on the threshold.

“I _will_ smother you in your sleep.” he grumbled.

“Love you too, now go.” Cass shoved his brother out the door.

Once the handle latched, he sighed, “Can you at least say whatever-that-was is under control?”

“For now, yes. I've given Affan plenty of advice and just as many warnings. It's up to him now.” Cass linked their arms and tugged him back to the kitchen, “Come, let's help Mama clean.”

They found everyone standing, waiting, looking expectantly and probably still worried.

“Some dragons actually _liked_ Enzo and he panicked.” he said with a shrug.

“So he ran here?” Zayd said incredulously.

“He ran away to _Berk_ on a whim, at this point nothing that boy does should surprise you.” Safiyah scoffed, “Now  _you,_ get over here. Rushing off without a proper hug…” 

She stomped over, throwing her whole weight against his gut and wrapping her arms around as much of them both as she could. Mama followed, then Jarrah, Zayd…

He sniffled, freeing a hand to scrub the tears from his cheeks.

Bed, _finally_ they could crawl into bed. And Eret didn't so much crawl as _flop._ But there was still room for Cass to slide in close, tangle together, take his hands and kiss the scars matting his knuckles…

 **That was very brave,** his husband’s voice came just as gentle.

**It's just the truth, and they deserved to know. Nothing brave about that…**

**Still, I'm proud of you,** a few more kisses soothed his nerves, **and they would never hold that against you. Now, rest. You've earned it.**

He pressed a kiss to Cassian’s brow, breath leaving in a relaxed sigh.

There were no dragon-dreams that night, so he slept deep, slow, and sweet.

The wedding was tomorrow, and there was some serious catching up to do with the cooking, mending clothes… Nimat said something about a rehearsal? And they needed to get a tuna at some point, but there would be plenty of ice to keep it cold and fire to cook it. They threw themselves into the work and Hiccup helped where he could, before moving on to patrolling the city, keeping dragons calm and out of trouble.

And the Alcazaba loomed up on it's hill. When would they be summoned? The wait was torture, he just wanted to know what the hell was going on.

There were still new dragons to see, when they snatched minutes here and there to record and introduce themselves, but it seemed there were still plenty of surprises emerging from the caves.

Snotlout insisted on ‘fixing’ his good blue tunic for some reason, so Eret stood awkwardly while he was poked and prodded and pinned. Cass helped Safiyah in the kitchen, Mama was making lunch for the kids, his brothers were out and about… it was just nice, and quiet.

“Ow!” he jerked away, “Watch it with the pins!”

“Uh. You _might_ want to look at this.” Snotlout mumbled.

A familiar rough, stuttery rasp-bark came at the window, and a call of **pack, kin?**

Cass was there in a heartbeat, almost plowing right through Snotlout in his rush to the door and he followed like a shadow. Half a dozen Sickle-Scales waited in the garden and out on the street, sleek and long-legged like Foxglove. The closest sprung back a step, cautious but still so **curious** and **hopeful** as it sniffed the air and inched closer again. It was quite a fetching blend of black and gold, most of the pack was actually, with the occasional splash of red or blue. **Pack** it pressed again, **kin?** Some of the other Sickle-Scales huffed, shuffling out of the way to let Scarab strut in, thoroughly pleased with himself. **Found kin!** he purred, **found many!**

“Yeah, you sure did.” he chuckled, a little wetly.

The first Sickle-Scale thrust it's snout into Cass’s arms, snuffling deeply with the imploring whine of **kin?**

“Sorry bud, they aren't here this time.” he scratched the dragon’s brow, “But we’ll be back soon.”

The whole pack whined, wings drooping, but Cass soothed them with promises and a few memories of Fox and Nightshade. To think, there were _more_ and they were under Cassian’s feet all his life… Light Furies too, and those big flashy-Furies.

“Maybe there's a future boyfriend for Fox in there somewhere.” he gave Cass a nudge.

“Yes. Wouldn't _that_ be something.” Cass smiled weakly, “Course, she's probably too young yet to even have that urge, but making friends couldn't hurt.”

“Same for the Fury kids.” an idea struck like lightning and he grinned, “And _maybe_ we can introduce dragon racing down here one of these days! They probably wouldn't take too kindly to us hurling sheep about, maybe we could ball up a couple nets…”

“Or make something like a big wicker basket, and hang nets off the Alcazaba walls.” Cass laughed, tired but so _bright._ Gods, that smile…

“Yeah, that might be easier.” he sighed, giving the dragon another pat, “Sorry bud, we’re pretty busy right now. I'm sure we can catch up another day, bring Fox to visit, all that.”

A murmur rose in the dragons down the road, echoes of **who, noise, metal, strangers, move away.** Closer it came, until rattling armor rose above the din.

“Looks like it's time.” he frowned, lips pressing thin, “Be right back, just gonna change before Snotlout keels over. And… maybe you should too. Just saying.”

Cass spared a glance down at his tunic, covered in flour and dragon-drool. “Oh. Yes.”

“Second thought, you go first. I'll keep them busy.” he snorted, pushing his husband towards the door.

 _“Fine,_ I'll be quick.” Cass rolled his eyes.

The Sickle-Scales were still a little wary, sidling out of the way or into the shadows to make room for half a dozen of the emir’s men, _and_ Uncle Isra thank Odin.

“We’ll be along shortly.” he announced, “Just have to change. I'm full of pins, and Cass is more flour than man.”

“We expected as much. And, speaking of…” Isra leaned a little closer, “You didn't hear it from  _me,_ but some chefs in the Alcazaba are lending their talents to a certain wedding as we speak. They're gearing up to roast half a _cow_ by the looks of it.” 

He whistled low, “I'll pass that on to Nimat, but don't tell Cass. He’ll pout all  _day_ if he hears he won't be getting that tuna.” 

“Good to know _that_ hasn't changed.” Isra chuckled, shaking his head before turning more serious, “As I'm sure you can guess, the court’s had time to stew on that deal of yours. I wasn't privy to everything, but enough to know there are some reservations. You two best be ready to negotiate, but  _stick_ to what matters most. Don't let them leash you.” 

“They’d have more luck trying to rein in the wind.” he snorted.

“Oh yes, but you still have to play their little games to avoid it. Cassian’s managed well, never imagined he had a mind for politics.” 

Cass returned, freshened up and wearing one of his nicer silk shirts under his scale vest, and _damn_ did he look good. But it was his turn now, and he dropped that little hint off with Mama first, before surrendering his tunic to Snotlout. He could afford a minute to wash his face, comb and re-tie his hair, pick a decent shirt and button his vest over it. They wouldn't _need_ weapons and probably shouldn't bring them anyway, but he still felt half-naked without a sword at his hip. It was time, time to see what their word was worth.

They walked, though Scarab and the Sickle-Scales followed at a cautious distance, and curious eyes followed them down every street and open square. How much of that mess had been witnessed? He hadn’t paid any attention in the thick of the fight or the aftermath, but it only took one person to start whispers. What would they say? It's not like anyone here knew what was going on, what did this _look_ like to an outsider? ...what did _they_ look like? Heroes, murderers, bad omens? How would they acclimate to all these dragons? What if-

 **_Eret,_ ** his husband’s voice curled around him, through him, reining in his wild pulse, **they'll come around, we’ll** **_show_ ** **them. It may take time, but together, we can do anything.**

**Yeah… I just- I don't want to get run out of town after all this, because someone gets it in their head that we’ll try to take over. Or, something.**

**I should hope my people have more sense than that,** Cass gave him a little nudge, **come. Eyes ahead, it's time to show them all what we’re made of.**

He hummed, brows furrowing, **I'll bet Hiccup’s inventions could be a bit of extra leverage, if we needed it. And dragons helping with fire stuff means they’ll need less wood, right? Better iron, glass, silver and pottery in less time… and all the little dragons can hunt rats and protect the crops! They've never had to think about what dragons can offer.**

They kept the ideas flowing, hardly noticing the march through the city, to the gate and the stairs beyond, up the shady garden and between nearly-finished buildings. In a blink they were in the court again, where the emir and more men in the same lavish dress waited. Must be all the decision-makers, they certainly wore their experience plain as day in deep wrinkles and greying hair. But only two or three of the eight men looked the least bit somber or serious, even with the dragons fanning out behind them.

“Let's not waste time with formalities.” the emir said, waving his hand, “We’ve reached an agreement. Your first conditions are unchallenged, but they may require more refining as time goes on. Nothing we wouldn't have done anyway. The  _last_ are where we couldn't reach a consensus, so I'm afraid we’ve had to add a concession of our own.” 

His heart seized for half a beat.

“We don't have any of your experience with the beasts. The court will only agree if you stay for a year, at the very least, to smooth over the transition. Among other things.” the emir waved again, more casually, “You’ll have the chance to prove your convictions, we’ll even put you up in the Alcazaba to… keep an eye on your progress”

...well, that wasn’t so bad. But what did that mean? He stole a glance at Cass, and found him just as wary but _hopeful,_ hardly daring to breathe.

“That is an exceedingly generous offer.” Cass said, pausing to clear his throat, “Though, I'm afraid we didn't pack for such a long stay. One of us will need to go back to Berk with the rest for clothes, supplies, tools- and the rest of our flock. They're experienced, acclimated to life with humans. They can help the dragons here integrate.”

“Hiccup’s been working on designs that can help the city.” he added, “Windmills, saddles-”

He jolted as an idea struck hard and fast, and he swatted Cass’s shoulder without thinking.

“We can bring Dad back! They'll need an experienced saddlemaker, and maybe we can strike some kind of deal with Ghadir’s father to get enough leather! And Vega, we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“True, and we wouldn't be leaving Father behind either.” Cass added softly, before turning back to the court, “Apologies, just planning other help we could call in. We will agree with your terms, if you can forgive our need to prepare.”

“We expected as much.” the emir shrugged, “And more experienced hands are welcome. So, it is decided. One year, to see if all you claim is true. And beyond that, well…”

Khayran said nothing more, but a _tiny_ smile gathered in the corners of his eyes. What was that man planning? He’d been around the twins too much to ever trust those looks.

“One year.” Cass agreed, voice tight, “Now, we must plan. It will take… about three weeks to get there and back, with time to rest and pack our things. I will go, Eret can stay.”

“Wait, what?”

“I’ll not have you sleeping in the _dirt_ with your arm in that state.” Cass said firmly.

“It's just a scratch-”

“You know as well as I do a scratch is all it takes. I won't be going alone, I'll be fine. You'll have my family, and plenty of work to keep you busy.”

Eret wilted, but… relented after a heavy sigh. Wait. They weren't alone.

“Sorry. We’ll, uh. Get going.” he shifted uneasily.

“That wedding is in the afternoon, yes?” the emir asked casually, before they could turn.

“The ceremony is just after midday, yes, at the eastern mosque. The feast will be in the afternoon.” Cass answered.

Khayran kept that minute smile, “Our congratulations, to your brother and his bride.”

“We thank you, for every generosity.” Cass managed a stiff bow that he quickly copied.

The extra guards stayed behind, leaving uncle Isra to escort them out and his knees quickly turned to jelly. They had _succeeded,_ all the way across the board- No. Not… not quite.

“He didn't mention the last one. The fostering.” he muttered, heart sinking.

“Maybe he just needed more time.” Cass offered, “Or he’ll bring it up more privately.”

 _Hope_ flickered like a candle flame in his husband’s heart, and he wouldn't let his doubt smother it. But Scarab brought all that to a stop, mewling as he wedged between them and under their hands, smugly declaring **mine** to the Sickle-Scales trailing behind.

“Hey, don't be like that.” he scolded, “Where did your manners go?”

Scarab sneezed, then licked his chops dismissively. Then, his auricles perked.

“Wait! Wait-” someone shouted, footsteps echoing off the walls.

They all stopped short, and the dragons rumbled. That was a young person’s voice, who..?

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” a boy- man? stumbled around the corner, gasping for breath.

It was the scholar from last time, the one Datura liked so much. He’d lost most of that lingering teenage awkwardness since then, and settled more comfortably into his own frame. He hadn't looked too hard before but the boy reminded him a bit of Vega now, with those sharp features and golden skin, but his hair was all dense curls and his eyes... kinder. Wasn’t much of a runner though, by the looks of it.

“Naji, whatever is the matter?” Isra sighed, resigned and deep.

“Just- just a moment-” the acolyte panted, hands braced on his knees.

He and Cassian shared a confused look and the Sickle-Scales backed away warily as Naji slowly straightened, all flushed and starting to sweat.

“I was hoping we could compare notes.” he finally said, “There are so many, we don't know how much we’ve missed. The head Librarian assumed you would be recording too, I'm sorry to intrude-”

“No, that's quite alright! In fact, I insist.” Cass said, cracking a smile.

“Oh, maybe we can send any plans Hiccup’s finished back with you, when we’re done.” he added.

“Good idea. Now, come, before Mama wrangles herself a dragon to hunt us down.” Cass pushed him about, back down the hill.

A nice, easy walk was exactly what Naji needed to get himself sorted, hitching the strap of a satchel higher on his shoulder. But _questions_ simmered all around him, and all it took was Scarab nudging under his arm to get him asking.

“So…” Naji said slowly, “The dragons are staying? And, we could, you know…”

Cass hummed, encouraging the scholar to speak. 

“Wecouldridethemtoo?” Naji said all in a rush, only to flush with embarrassment after.

Scarab cooed in delight, loud enough to cover his muffled laughter. Cass swatted him anyway.

 **He’s still a boy, be nice,** his husband scolded.

“Okay, okay.” he held his hands up in surrender, “But, yeah. Anyone that wants to can,  _eventually._ Once we get some proper saddles made, give some lessons, all that. Safety first.” 

“And- we can pick any of them?” Naji almost shook with eager energy.

_“Almost.”_ Cass cautioned, “Some require more strength and experience than others, like the Sickle-Scales. You could get hurt aiming too high too fast. But if you can ride a horse, that will give you a good idea of what to expect.”

“Oh, I can! Just a little though...” 

“It takes a lot of leg strength either way, you might want to start a little exercise.” he added.

“We usually start training on Gronckles, I saw a few yesterday. They're on the small side, but they are unique in their flight. If we can flag one down, you’ll see.” Cass smiled warmly.

Naji absolutely _beamed_ and it set Eret’s heart melting. How sweet… no wonder Datura liked the boy so much.

Cass did manage to coax a Gronckle over on the way, though it seemed these weren't quite as extroverted as their Berkian kin. But the grey-green dragon warmed to Naji with Scarab’s encouragement, and was content to trundle along with the Sickle-Scales all the way home, **investigating** them thoroughly. She probed with endless questions, **who what how,** and only doubled her efforts when they mentioned Meatlug, Berk, then the other riders. That gave the Gronckle pause. **Fly, fly together?** she gurgled, **carry, fly, play?** Scarab **affirmed** brightly, prancing a little to show off his saddle and the Gronckle went quiet, **considering…**

Nimat, Affan, _everyone_ was waiting when they got back, nervous at first but instantly relieved at the sight of a smile. Now, how should they go about this-

“They _agreed.”_ Cass blurted, rushing through the gate, “They agreed to our terms, but we’ll have to stay and work with the dragons, for a whole year!”

“The emir’s going to put us up in the Alcazaba, something about ‘keeping an eye’ on us.” he added, “Cass’ll run back to Berk for some things and a few other helping hands, and I'll stay to keep things running here. After the wedding of course.”

“A year?” Mama stared, jaw dropping, “A year in the  _Alcazaba?_ How in the world-” 

“He offered and we accepted, that was their only condition. They’re calling it a test, but I know we won’t need half that time to change everything.” Cass grinned so wide it ached, “We’ll have everything we need once I get back, and-”

“What should _I_ do?” Safiyah asked quietly, ducking her head.

Cass’s smile fell, and they shared a long, uncertain look.

“...what do you _want_ to do?” Cassian asked in turn.

“I don't know.” she mumbled, “I want to help, but- Snotlout was so excited for Midsummer, and showing me all those islands now that it's warming up…”

“You could stay here a little while, then go back.” he offered, “The both of you, so you don't have to go alone. Though, if Affan has a spare room in his fancy new house, maybe Snotlout could stay there in the meantime.”

“And if you need anything, I can bring it.” Cass added, “But, Hiccup will need to go soon.”

“Do you trust this boy?” Mama asked firmly, stone-cold serious, “Sending him off with Safiyah,  _alone-”_

_“Yes_ Mama, as much as anyone. He may be brash and headstrong, but he is honorable. Berk expects men to behave themselves, same as here, and Snotlout _cares._ He won't lay a finger on her, and Mars wouldn't let him even if he tried.” Cass took her hands, squeezing gently, “I  _swear_ it. I wouldn't even suggest this otherwise.” 

Mama nodded slowly, but Zayd drew a breath to protest.

“Mister Cassian, do you have notes on this-” Naji stumbled around the corner of the house and froze, “O-oh. Pardon my interruption, this dragon started licking me and- should my skin be tingling?”

A towering golden skull slunk after him, crowned with huge, thorny, re-curved horns that seemed to glow even in the midday sun. But shocked gasps brought Eret back.

“Is that the emir’s son?” Zayd wheezed, face going ashen.

_“What?”_ he stiffened, heart lodging in his throat.

“Don't worry, I've got it handled.” Uncle Isra waved them down, “He’s a man now, he can do as he likes. And that seems to be dragon studies.”

The golden dragon was quite intent on Naji, following him out into the street and revealing more of itself. It's hide was all cream and gold, with soft amber stripes and long as it was, it's legs were quite short, but strong. The beast purred deeply, nuzzling Naji’s hand. **Help, stop pain, helping,** it insisted, **hatchling hurt.**

“Uh, did you have yourself a fall, or hit your hand?” he asked, wandering closer.

“I knocked into a wall this morning? Just a bump, it didn't even bruise.” Naji shrugged, “Why?”

“He might be able to smell that you're hurt, he just wants to help. Give the lad some space now, he’s not used to all this yet.” he half-scolded.

The dragon sighed, but with it's next breath those green-gold eyes honed in on him. **Hurt?** it crooned, craning it's neck over the wall to nose at his bandage. He patted it's smooth hooked beak and jutting chin, assuring that he was **fine, safe.**

“Oh you are _handsome_ old boy.” he found himself cooing, “Why don't you stick around a bit, let us do a little studying. Got any friends with you?”

They had their lunch in the garden, and spent the next hour or two comparing notes, trading information, sharing observations, and Hiccup braved the language barrier to join them. He was doing… better. Not perfect, but better, and Toothless stuck fast to his side. The Fury’s auto-tail sparked a whole new flurry of interest, which led to sharing the blueprints Hiccup managed to draft; a basic windmill, grooming brushes and dragon perches, saddles, simple stuff.

“If we brought some Flutterkites with us, we could start building a mail service.” Cass thought aloud, “And with a few on Berk we could keep in contact, should anything happen.”

“A good idea, but we’ll need to make some sort of weatherproof backpack.” Hiccup said.

“We could do the same for Cordoba, and I'll worry about Ghadir’s family. And the furniture thing, whenever Affan’s ready for it.” he added, “You won't have to worry about the Stormcutters going up either.”

“True. Obviously I'll bring Fox, Shade and Tyrian, the Reapers, Father and Pippin, Vega and Simurgh… Would we need more than that?” Cass asked.

 **Kin!** Lantana chirped, rattling off the names of her children, and Scarab added his **agreement.**

“All the kits, sure and… maybe see if Crush wants to come?” he missed the old beetle already, to go a full _year…_

“Of course.” Cass said, so softly, “And, maybe the Wraiths too, they could help in the workshop.”

“We’ll figure it out luv. Now, let's wrap this up, there's still a wedding to get through.”

 _“Yes_ my love.”


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Well, it was time. Poor Affan looked fit to drop and couldn't bring himself to eat breakfast, hell he could barely _stand._ Eret was off on some secret errand with Uncle Isra, probably getting the tuna caught or cleaned, so that left him and Safiyah pushing their brother around to get ready for the day. First to the baths for a good long soak, then back and around the house for every little bit of primping and preening Mama could think of. Snotlout’s tunic lay out on the table, finally finished and _damn_ was it ever a work of art; green silk embroidered all around the collar and cuffs in green and yellow and blue with Lil’ Crush’s scales set in like gems. Ghadir’s veil was it's match, though the designs were more dainty along the hem. Then the rest of them had to get ready, and it was like Jarrah and Zayd’s weddings all over again with their mother’s prodding and poking.

At least Reza wasn’t around to make a menace of himself.

They would have to move on to the mosque soon, and Affan looked fit to faint, one step shy from bolting to their old room. It was time to do something about that…

“Come on you, let's have a little walk.” he took Affan by the arm.

His brother followed like a puppet taken by the strings. They shouldn't go far, just around the back would do, where the dragons lounged and the Shovelhelm roused from it's nap. One sniff was all it took to get the beast scrambling to it's feet, whining **worry.** Affan clung to it's neck, for something solid to anchor him to here and now. He knew the feeling.

“You'll be _fine_ Affan.” he said gently, “It's just us for the ceremony. You've seen it all before.”

“But what if- what if Ghadir changes her mind, or her parents, they could still call it off-” 

“They _won't._ They adore you Affan, _especially_ Ghadir. She looks at you like you're all the sun and moon and stars in the sky! Don't even think about anything else, this is just the two of you today. There’ll be a thousand tomorrows after.” 

The Shovelhelm nuzzled as much of Affan as it could, and he sniffled.

“How did you know? That Eret was the right one.” he asked after a time.

Taken aback, Cassian had to stop and think, for an embarrassing length of time.

“I didn't. Not at first.” he finally answered, “That night we met, it wasn't instant. Sure I was interested,  _attracted_ in a base way, but it wasn't until the months in-between that I realized how good it felt to be heard, _seen_ for who I was. It was so _easy_ to just… be myself. By the time that sunk in, it was too late and I couldn't do anything but stay put, and hope he would come back one day. I would have waited as long as it took, years if I had to. But that next spring he came on the back of a _dragon._ How could I say no?” 

“Like a proper fairytale.” Affan found the strength to roll his eyes.

“Well you _asked.”_ he scoffed, swatting his brother’s arm, “But I wasn't so different before our wedding, even with all of that. Astrid was right though. Once you see her, you'll forget why you were ever worried and the world will fall back into place.”

Affan frowned minutely, “But… I still don't know what to do about Enzo.”

“He’s coming to the banquet right? Introduce Ghadir to all the smiths and gauge her reaction. If you're moving into Crispino’s house, she should know them anyway.” that was really all he could offer, “But there's  _time._ If it's meant to be… I think it will come together all on it's own. Focus on Ghadir for now, one thing at a time.” 

“When did _you_ get so smart?” his brother snarked, on the verge of tears.

“I've always been clever, the only difference is you're listening.” he slung an arm over Affan’s shoulders, rocking him gently, “Now save your tears for the wedding, it's almost time.”

“What’re we doing again?” Snotlout whispered, leaning closer as they walked.

Safiyah threw her head back, groaning, “I told you three times already!”

“I got distracted okay!”

“All three times?!”

A headache pricked between Cassian’s eyes, and something twitched in his jaw as his pulse rose. He had to go through this _again?_

_“We_ aren't really doing anything, just stay in your spot and be quiet. The feast comes after, with all the music and dancing, but you still need to mind your manners.”

“And there won't even be an _axe…”_ Snotlout grumbled, almost pouting.

“Oh would you stop whining about the axe? It's not even your wedding!” Hiccup snapped.

They were so close, so close to the mosque and blessed, polite, peer-pressured _silence._ Uncle Isra, Auntie Dalal, _Reza_ and their cousins should be on their way, but there wouldn't be room for all the dragons too. They would have to wait outside, but it shouldn't be for long. A few prayers, gifting the ring, signing the contract with the witnesses, another prayer and blessing…

“I see what you mean, about this all being a production.” Eret said, nudging into him, “Still like ours better. But…” 

“But what?” he prompted, nudging back.

“Almost wish we could do it again, with _everyone_ there.” Eret mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck, “It hadn’t really sunk in, how much I've missed with just… me and Dad growing up. I _think_ there's an uncle and aunt back- back where I was born, maybe a cousin? I can't remember them.”

To hell with it. He took Eret’s hand, squeezing _tight_ to soothe the ache around their hearts. For all the drama of his childhood… at least he was never _lonely._

“I'm sure we could manage something.” he ran his thumb over Eret’s knuckles, “Maybe, after our year we could try to bring everyone north for a visit. Or… a year and change, so that it's summer. That would be plenty of time to get everyone used to flying. But no matter what, they're _your_ family too, and now they all know it. _Never_ forget that Eret.”

His husband managed a thin smile as he tried to blink tears away. But they were finally where they needed to be. Affan and their mother entered first, then the rest of their little crew, and the dragons reluctantly settled themselves out of the way. A long carpet and wreaths of fresh flowers lined the walk to a small table, and the cushions where Affan and Ghadir were to kneel. The officiant was already there, Cassian _thought_ he recognized him as one of his grandfather’s old friends, but the man ducked close to speak with his brother and pulled him into place to wait.

Snotlout, to his credit, kept quiet next to Hiccup a few steps back as the rest of the family arrived, taking their places on the groom’s side. Reza said nothing, shuffling by with his head down to stand beside Affan, and a door across the hall closed. Probably someone off to fetch Ghadir and her family, just a moment more-

That same door _crashed_ open and footsteps thundered their way, followed by shocked voices.

“Dearest, slow down!” Javan cried.

Ghadir rounded the corner, skidding as her sandals lost traction on the tile and only the arm linked with her father’s kept her upright. Sheepishly, she gathered herself back up, straightened out skirts and veil, and Affan choked. Ghadir snapped to attention, and the _look_ that crossed her face, pure awe and adoration… it set his heart panging. Javan couldn't stop her when she bolted, aiming right for her groom and she probably would’ve tackled him if the officiant didn't step in-between. 

_“Easy_ my dear!” the old man chuckled, “Though your enthusiasm warms the heart. Come now, you know how this goes, take her hands…”

Affan could barely move, or even _blink._ Mama had to prod him into action and Ghadir snatched his hands where they trembled at his sides. She had to drag him down to kneel on the cushions and Affan practically collapsed, he couldn't take his _eyes_ off her and tears flowed freely. Cassian’s own eyes stung something fierce, and he tried to blink his vision clear. He knew that feeling very, very well.

The prayers started and he followed along on instinct, though he doubted the couple heard a single word. It was old, familiar, for protection and prosperity and health, and after the officiant had to prod Affan to produce the ring. It was a thing of beauty, of silver and one of the green cave gems, carved all over with the most delicate script, more prayers and blessings. Ghadir’s jaw dropped, now _she_ was crying- He had to turn a fraction, but nothing could mask his wet sniffles. At least he wasn't the only one. Mama, Javan, Marwa, Safiyah… even Reza. With the ring in place, the officiant produced a writing board and inked quill for them to sign the contract of their marriage, and it took a few tries for Affan to manage without his hands shaking. Ghadir went next, then her father as witness, then back to Reza. But he paused, quill hovering over the paper.

“I- _you_ should.” he muttered, passing everything down to Jarrah.

Now Jarrah froze. After a beat, his brow furrowed and he passed it in turn to Zayd with a look that he missed, but Zayd didn’t hesitate at all.

And held the board and quill out to him.

“What?” he stared, almost helpless.

“Sign the paper Cassy.” Zayd waved the quill at him.

He didn't dare look around the room as he took the pen, fighting a tremor as he twisted awkwardly to write his name below his brother’s. There. It was done. Zayd passed the board back, the officiant sealed it with a bead of wax, and proceeded to the blessing. It was short and sweet, but Affan and Ghadir were too wrapped up in each other now, hands clasped, almost nose to nose. Oh, there would be _no_ getting those two apart now.

 **Not like we were any better luv,** Eret prodded, **but, are you okay?**

 **Yes, that was just a shock. No one said a word about Reza not signing, what’s** **_with_ ** **him?**

**He’ll probably stick around for the feast. I know I’ll be keeping civil.**

**Yes, I know… But, what do I even say to him? He's practically a stranger, our only thing in common is a few drops of blood.**

**You could start with ‘hello’,** Eret offered, brushing their knuckles together, **just… just saying is all.**

**...I know. I love you.**

He hooked their fingers together, and their rings knocked lightly.

***

Well, that was certainly something. Eret didn't really understand the prayers, he was missing something beyond just the words to join in with the others. So, he kept quiet. Better to not draw attention to himself. After, poor Affan needed the better part of half an hour to stop crying long enough to walk home, and Ghadir glued herself to his side. There would be a little break before the feast, time to re-heat the first courses, fetch the musicians, set out the tables and benches and probably more. There wasn't much around for fruit yet, but they used mint and flowers of all things to perfume the water. That might taste better cold…

Cold. With _ice._

“Be right back!” he dropped a kiss on his husband’s cheek.

“I- wait, what?” Cass almost dropped his basket of linens.

“Gonna get some ice from Dreamer, I’ll just be two shakes!” he said quickly.

 _“Oh._ Good idea, I’ll get a basin ready.”

“What for?” he paused, tying his hair back.

“It's _sea_ ice, we can't put it in the drinks.” Cass laughed, “But, we can bury the pitchers if we break it up a bit, put it all in something.”

“Excellent point luv.” how could he have forgotten that? “Off I go then. Tana!”

The Light Fury bounded around the corner, saddleless, but he could manage a quick ride. He joined her on the street, giving a long-overdue scratch under her chin.

“How’d you feel about checking on Dreamer? Just popping by.” he asked, it was only fair to.

Lantana considered a moment, auricles flicking, but decided it would be **fine.**

“Thanks Tana. Now, let's be quick-”

“Are you going somewhere?” 

He and Lantana both started and Ghadir squeaked, ducking back down behind the wall.

“Sorry! Didn't see you there.” he found himself laughing, “We’re just running to the bay for- uh. What’s the word… cold water, so cold it's gone solid. That big dragon makes it, instead of fire.”

“The big one?” her eyes went wide, “Affan, Affan we  _have_ to go see!” 

“Wh- _now?”_

“Your dragon still has his saddle on, it'll only be a minute!” 

**Kin!** Lantana cooed, prancing in place. **Fine** he relented, and **called** the Shovelhelm over. It came, sniffling curiously along until it spotted the newlyweds. Then, it purred like thunder, pupils blowing wide as it rolled it's nose into Ghadir’s waiting hand over the garden wall.

“Alright, come along you. Don't make _them_ walk.” he patted the dragon’s shoulder.

The Shovelhelm trotted along with newfound speed, crouching low before the gate so Affan could boost his wife into the saddle.

“Ghadir, where are you going?” her mother called, nearing alarm.

“Just down to the bay, a quick look!” she shouted over Affan’s shoulder.

“I’ll be with them, don't worry. We’re just after something for the meal.” he added.

Marwa relented, but didn't look terribly happy about it, even with her husband patting her arm.

“Now stay _close.”_ he warned, “Dreamer won't hurt you, but this stuff can go any direction.”

Affan nodded, visibly swallowing, but Ghadir practically bounced behind him in her seat. Takeoff was easy and the Shovelhelm flew gently, endlessly **amused** by Ghadir’s eagerness as they drifted towards the ocean. The Bewilderbeast wasn't hard to spot, lounging in the shallows but well out of everyone’s way, and _perfect_ he’d already made himself a sort of ice-bed. Didn't even have to ask!

 **Hey bud!** He called to announce their approach, **watch out, we’re coming by!**

Dreamer snorted, mane perking as he stirred from his nap, **dream-friend?**

**Yeah, it's me, my brother too. We just need to steal a little ice.**

**Kin!** Lantana echoed, folding her wings for a quick swoop down to the ice spires. There was plenty around, maybe they could blast off a chunk before they left. First, he wanted to check up on the poor beast… Lantana found a good perch close to Dreamer’s head, with enough room around for the Shovelhelm to find a spot too and the Bewilderbeast rose a little higher, enough to playfully shower him with a snowy breath.

 **Hey!** he couldn't really scold through his laughter, but _Lantana_ did after a vigorous shake.

 **Kin?** Dreamer hummed, ignoring the Fury to peer closer at Affan and Ghadir, **they are dark? Not like you, like-**

 **My mate,** he finished, **and his kin are mine, like a pack. They're friends, and they wanted to see you. The city is curious, they may come looking. Will you be okay?**

Dreamer considered, long and quiet, kneading ice and sand between his paws.

 **Only look?** the Bewilderbeast asked, almost meekly, **no screams? No… no** **_hurt._ **

**No,** **_no one’s_ ** **hurting you, I won't let them,** he insisted, **I’ll be around for a long time, my mate has to go home for a little while, but he’s coming back too. You're** **_all_ ** **safe here. We’ll fight for you if we have to. You're** **_worth_ ** **saving.**

Slowly, Dreamer shifted to get a better look at the Shovelhelm and it's passengers, his eyes were brighter and clearer, Eret noted. Less bloodshot.

 **Two?** Dreamer hummed, **so small, hard to see…**

He snickered, and the Shovelhelm huffed **offense** at them both.

 **Yes, there are two,** he finally answered, **and even more up there, kids too! Maybe we can bring them down to visit, I bet they love the water. Kids...** **_can_ ** **scream though, but they're small, they don't know any better. Will that be okay?**

 **Don't… don't know,** Dreamer answered, **never seen, never met** **_human_ ** **hatchlings.**

**We’ll start slow then, just our kin. Will that be okay?**

**We- we will try. For dream-friends, we will try.**

**Thank you,** he patted the dragon’s cheek, **I promise you won't regret it. You may even like them! They love to play, the oldest two adore dragons already. But we won't bother you for too long, you've earned a good rest. Sleep tight bud.**

Dreamer thrummed, settling back down on his bed of ice, finally at peace.

“Kay Tana, that spire over there is nice and thin. Think you can knock a chunk off?” he scratched the Fury’s neck.

She **considered,** eyeing a few bits of ice before settling on another. With a few flaps they were above it and she _pounced._ The thin column snapped off under her paws and she scrambled to sink her claws into it, front _and_ back, finding her balance again before settling into an easy glide.

“Time to head back!” he shouted, waving for the Shovelhelm to follow.

It took a moment for the others to catch up, but when they did the Shovelhelm had it's own chunk of ice in it's claws, thoroughly **pleased** with itself.

Landing was tricky, Tana had no choice but to drop her prize in the road. It crumbled, but that was fine. They were only gonna break up anyway. Cass was there in a heartbeat when they landed to start collecting all the pieces, so he slipped down to help.

“It went well?” Cass asked, handing him the wide wooden tub.

“Yeah, he's fine. Had a look at Affan and Ghadir, I mentioned bringing the kids by to see him. It's only a matter of time before people start looking, we should help him get acclimated to crowds. And, kids scream you know?” he frowned, thinking hard, “He’s willing to try, I think Raimi and Kadin are the perfect ones to introduce-”

“Look out!” Affan squawked as the Shovelhelm shot overhead, wobbling as it tried to slow.

The dragon landed further down the street, skidding and spinning on it's chunk of ice like a sled, hooting wildly in panic. Before he could even lift a foot to help, a great _blur_ shot out of nowhere, grappling the Shovelhelm by the tail and so very, very gently slowed it to a stop with a few sweeps of it's wings. Massive bodies shifted, voices rose in alarm, and Eret set the basin down to rush after his husband.

“Affan!” Cass panted, “Ghadir! Are you alright?”

The Shovelhelm- _Shovelhelms,_ their savior was another of it's kind, stumbled a little to face them and the newlyweds seemed perfectly fine. Shaken, but fine, though Ghadir’s veil had wrapped around her head and Affan struggled to help her free. 

“Really? Like you haven’t dealt with _ice_ before.” he found himself scolding, “But thank _you,_ your timing was perfect.”

The teal-blue Shovelhelm preened, arching it- _her_ neck with pride, but Affan’s scuffed his claws sheepishly. Ghadir finally straightened out all her silks and after a breathless pause, she _laughed,_ so hard and deep she almost pitched backwards out of the saddle.

“Oh, she’s a treasure.” he found himself laughing too.

“Here, let's get you down.” Cass shook his head, offering a hand to them.

Ghadir took him up on the offer, still giggling, but misjudged the height of the drop and yelped as she caught herself over Cassian’s shoulder.

“Oh _heavens_ I’m sorry!” she scooted away, straightening her skirts, “He is  _very_ tall.” 

“Yes, they are. And I’m sorry for that little misadventure, but it looks like my brother isn't the only one meeting up with his lady-love today.” Cass teased.

The Shovelhelm snorted his **offense,** almost jostling Affan off his back, but the blue lady scolded him with a single, sidelong look. Toothless joined them with a few greeting chirps, then turned his attention to the big block of ice. After a few sniffs, he planted his paws against the side and shoved it back towards home to put it with the rest. Clever lad, Toothless.

“Right, let's get those drinks cooling, I’m parched-” he started to turn and follow.

“Wait.” Affan said, shifting uneasily when they looked, “How- what were you doing down there, with that dragon? It was  _reacting_ to things, like you were talking. I- sorry, I must sound foolish…” 

They might as well keep telling the truth, and Cass seemed to agree.

“That's exactly what I was doing actually.” he said, “I don't know how, or why, but we can speak the way they can to each other. It's like Cass said last time, we can see what they see, even memories. That's how we were able to get through to Dreamer when Drago tried to attack, how I talked to him just now. It's just, all inside our heads.”

“How can that be?” Affan stared and stared, “That's- that's the stuff of  _stories.”_

“We really don't know how I’m afraid.” Cass said, “It just happened one day. But we aren't the only ones. Hiccup, his mother, a rider we met outside Balansiyyah… All of us can hear them, speak with them, it's helped us immensely. It's not as scary as it sounds.”

“Still, that's… it beggars belief.” 

“And it sounds like something they could _prove.”_ Ghadir said pointedly, “Perhaps, how many fingers am I holding up?” 

She shifted, tucking an arm behind her back where the Shovelhelms could still see then holding up two, then four, then three, then five- Oh, _clever_ lass.

“Well you have to pick a number first, you keep changing it.” he smirked.

Affan leaned back to see for himself and Ghadir finally settled on…

“Four.” Cass said, “And now two, since you changed it again.”

The Shovelhelm almost knocked his brother flat with his insistent nuzzling as he stared in stunned silence, and an _eager_ gleam rose in Ghadir’s eye.

“We can talk about it later, there are better things to be doing! C’mon, back to the garden. Let's get that tub filled before the ice melts.” he waved them on.

Luckily all the parents hadn’t been around to see that messy landing, and he had the ice chipped up and ready by the time everyone emerged from the kitchen. Strange how something he took for granted was a _marvel_ down here. Ghadir and her family in particular filed by to feel how cold the shards were, rolling clean pieces between their fingers while he tried to bury the glass pitchers deep enough to chill. Now, when was that roast coming by..?

 **Eret, I’m going to get Ahmed and the musicians. We’ll be right back.** Cass’s phantom touch was light, trailing over his cheek.

 **_We?_ ** he turned, finding Cass at the gate, face an impassive mask with Reza beside him. **Oh. I’ll make sure we don't have too much fun without you.**

That got Cass’s lips twitching upwards, and they went on their way. Hopefully, this could start even a little bridge-building, if only for his husband’s sake.

“Where _is_ everyone?” Affan groused, “Uncle Isra left ages ago!”

“What, everyone from the shop?” he asked, “You could always go check.”

“Mama’ll kill me if I run off again…” Affan huffed.

“Alright, _I’ll_ go.” he rolled his eyes fondly, “Be right back, again.”

Sure Enzo was a right pain in the ass, but Crispino was fun enough, and that kid Hayder. He’d survive the trip, especially with Lantana inviting herself along. For the best really, he barely remembered where the shop was, so she could lead. And it was nice to walk for a change, he really should be learning his own way around. Cass and Hiccup would be going soon, too soon, maybe the day after next and then he’d be more or less on his own for a few weeks. Well, not _alone,_ not really. But he’d be alone in his head for the first time since they forged that bond, he was so used to Cassian’s thoughts mingling at the edges of his own. If he kept busy enough, maybe he wouldn't even notice…

 **Food?** Lantana chirped, nose rising to sample the breeze, **food, meat- Mate!** She scurried ahead, crying Scarab’s name as a starburst of colors behind his eyes.

“Tana, wait! Damn _cat.”_ he groused, rushing after her.

Luckily the streets were nearly empty, but what people were around scattered in the Fury’s wake and he babbled apologies only half in Andalusi as he chased her flicking tailfins around another corner. The avenue widened here, that much he remembered, now if she would just **stop already.** And thank Thor, Lantana did, but for Scarab. They stopped dead in the streets, purring as they rubbed their faces all over each other.

“He wasn't gone half an hour Tana.” he scoffed, “Now, where’s our uncle?”

 **Kin?** Scarab perked, kin **follows** with **food!** and… **_hatchling_ ** he added, nose wrinkling.

“Hey, no shirking your duties now!” Uncle Isra’s voice rose above the crowd.

Scarab wilted, slinking back the way he came, but it wasn't just Isra coming. Two men beside him carried a huge platter with what looked like half a roasted cow, while two more brought covered baskets, maybe bread? The smiths trailed behind them, all dressed up for the party and Scarab took his place guarding them all.

“Looks like you saved me some trouble! Tana, go help would you?” 

Lantana grumbled, but joined her mate on the other side of the procession while he fell into step beside Isra. _Damn_ did all these smells have his stomach rumbling.

“Oh, and Cass went off to pick up the musicians. With Reza.” he added, a little awkwardly.

Isra sighed, long and hard, “It’ll be a long while before my brother is ready to take responsibility, but I’ll be  _damned_ if Cassian doesn't deserve to hear that. After what Reza put him through, all of them. Safiyah, Nimat…” 

“Well, I'm here while Cass is gone. Maybe I can finally return the favor, be someone in the middle. He might never have a _good_ relationship, but…” he shrugged, “At least we can't say we didn't try.  _I_ have a dad again because Cass tried.” 

“No wonder you two get on so well.” Isra smiled faintly, “Coming from the same sort of place…”

“At least I don't have to do any kidnapping.” he snorted, “Well,  _more_ kidnapping. Sorry for last time.” 

“I should _hope_ not!” 

The additions to the feast brought the burgeoning party to a stunned standstill, leaving Mama to rally the troops and clear more room. He had to hold the other guests back for a moment, but the dragons were a good enough distraction and Cass managed to scoot out and join them. He seemed alright, or at least not so stressed that he needed an escape. But, there was the matter of the menu change…

“You _knew.”_ Cass glowered.

“Yeah, I did.” he smirked, “Stop pouting, you can have all the tuna you want when you get back! And it's not even your wedding!”

“Spoilsport…” Cass crossed his arms in a huff, “But it's all set, let's bring everyone in.”

“By your leave, sir Crispino!” he gestured broadly to the gate.

“Finally! I've had that roast under my nose for almost an _hour.”_ the old smith laughed.

Enzo, still covered in his Fireworm flock, lingered at the back and had to be dragged in by another smith, and they could finally follow. The crowds mingled, filtered in and found places to sit as Affan and Ghadir greeted them. The new bride turned their way-

And her face dropped in shock as she stared, and stared, and finally _gasped._

“He’s _perfect.”_ she shook Affan by handfulls of his shirt, “Affan he’s perfect! Uncle, where’s my sketchbook?! He’s perfect for the new bronze!”

Ghadir scurried off, leaving everyone else to share bewildered looks. What in the _world?_

“Uh.” Enzo fidgeted, “Should I go?”

A sly grin tugged at Cassian’s lips, “No, it's alright. I’m sure it's nothing.”

He gave Enzo a push as Ghadir and her uncle returned, absolutely giddy.

_“See?_ He’s got the _perfect_ Roman features, like all the classics!” she practically squeaked as she bounced in place, “And he lives in the guest lodges?”

“Uh, yes?” Affan had to clear his throat, “We’ve worked together for years.”

“I dare say he is a good candidate!” her uncle leaned closer, squinting, “You can do all your studies  _later_ dearest, there's time yet before we go. I assume, on the dragons?” 

“Of course! We weren't going to leave you to _walk_ back.” Cass laughed, “And we planned on showing a few little dragons the way to Cordoba, to ferry mail. You can still keep in easy contact, sent those studies back and forth.”

“A good thing too! Sweet Ghadir’s been my eyes for years now, ever since my sight started going. And this bronze has been stumping us for an age!” her uncle said, “Some old copy of a Roman marble this gentleman in Seville wanted restored.”

“Aren't those in the _nude?!”_ Enzo flushed all the way to his ears.

“Yes?” Ghadir said, so innocently, “But we’ve only needed a head, and the marble didn’t have one to copy either! Do you have  _any_ idea how annoying that's been? Nothing’s good enough for this man! But we might finally get it done now!” 

**Well, that turned out better than I could’ve hoped,** Cass practically purred.

**At this point, I don't think I want to know. Go save your brother, he looks fit to faint.**

He gave Cass a push and found himself a place in line for food, it just smelled too _good_ to wait. The emir’s men were invited to stay of course, and they did for a time before returning to the Alcazaba with a few of those little squishy-tailed dragons scampering after their heels. The music started soon after, and the dancing, and Affan managed to butter Cass up enough to place _Once._ It had so much more weight now that the most important people knew. But when Cass could catch a break, it was like no one else existed as they danced, fearless and as close as they liked.

And so it went, long into the evening until nearly twilight. Enzo’s little flock of Fireworms led the way home for all the smiths, and Ghadir would spend one last day in the guest house before moving in. A good thing too, the poor girl was _exhausted,_ and so was Affan. They could hardly bear to be apart the whole day, and he knew that feeling well. But the day after tomorrow, Cass and Hiccup were going home. They all but collapsed into bed after a few hours more of cleaning and settling the house back into sorts, and Cass didn't even try to keep up appearances anymore. They tucked in close, together, as tight as they could.

***

They had one last day, and once he weathered those few weeks there would be a whole _year_ in al-Mariyah to look forward to. A whole _year_ back home, and they wouldn't be hiding. Reserved perhaps, no more _public_ than any other couple, but not afraid. Not anymore. And to think, he would be living in the _Alcazaba,_ like some kind of prince! All they had to do was their everyday tasks on Berk, it wouldn't even feel like a job! And maybe that time would give the emir space to think, he _wouldn't_ give up hope on some sort of answer. Maybe nothing, probably a neutral agreement, but if, _if..._

 _‘If’._ Such a little, vast, powerful thought.

Eret woke him with gentle scratches up and down his spine, hands wandering only as far as was polite. Maybe they could sneak off one more time…

“Morning.” he rumbled, nuzzling against his husband’s pulse.

“Mornin’.” Eret answered, “Hiccup and Snotlout beat us to breakfast.”

“They can _have_ it.” he kissed Eret’s neck, relishing the shiver that followed.

“I did promise Dreamer we’d come visit, help him get used to more people. And, it looks like a good day to play on the beach. Bring some lunch, the family…”

He paused in his affections, “And Dreamer agreed?”

“Yeah, I asked. He's willing to try, and so long as the kids behave I think he’ll be okay.” Eret sighed, turning to kiss his brow, “Better they come with us than try to explore on their own.”

“An excellent point… But I don't want to get up.” he groaned.

“Cass, c’mon…”

“No.”

“Cassian.”

 _“No.”_

“Come on, I promised!”

Eret had to drag him out of bed to get ready for the day, eat, and help around the house while the rest of the family woke. Ghadir should be coming by just before lunch with all her belongings, so they could invite her and her family too. Maybe they could talk a little business with her father, al-Mariyah would need a _lot_ more leather after all. It wouldn't even need to be the best, saddles were the perfect outlet for all their sub-par hides. But, later. Once they were relaxed and settled in, and all was well with Dreamer.

Mama was packing a hamper with leftovers when Lantana **alerted** him to Ghadir’s arrival. She was rushing ahead, which she seemed fond of doing, with that blue Shovelhelm close behind her. Good to see she was already making friends with the new neighbors. He met them at the door, ready to take some bags, but Ghadir slipped right by and into her husband’s waiting arms.

“Affan!” she laughed and cried all at once,  _“Affan-”_

Heavens, that was cute. He smothered a little laugh and returned to the kitchen, helping his sister with the bottles of sherbet. But, she was a bit distracted by the new arrivals.

“You two _better_ not subject me to that when you gets home.” Safiyah rolled her eyes.

“I dunno, it's kinda sweet…” Snotlout mumbled, face going red.

That gave Safiyah pause, enough to sheepishly sneak another glance his way.

“I _guess.”_ she finally admitted, “It's just a little weird when it's your brother.”

“I wouldn't know.” Snotlout said even more quietly, picking at his shirt.

“...a lot of people up north don't have siblings.” Safiyah observed, after a time.

“Our childhood wasn’t a good time to be… well, a kid. The dragon raids were heavy, half the village burned down every month. A lot- a lot of kids didn't make it. _I_ almost died, and we thought my mom did too.” Hiccup said carefully, “Hopefully, we can start changing that. Once Finna’s a _little_ older anyway.”

“I figured you'd try for another.” Eret was only half-teasing, “Berk isn't _Berk_ without a few Haddocks running wild.”

“Hopefully not _my_ kind of wild.” Hiccup grimaced, “The whole island would need a round-the-day watch with more than one.”

“Well, once there are some young Furies in the mix, I bet they’ll keep each other in line.” Cassian offered with a small smile.

“I dare say that’ll make it worse.” Hiccup heaved a long, resigned sigh.

Luckily, Ghadir lived quite modestly despite her family’s wealth, and all her bags and chests fit neatly in a little corner for Affan to take home later, but the promise of a trip to the beach had her scrambling for a change of clothes. Her family was content to go as they were, but Ghadir emerged dressed much the same as the rest of them, plain cotton trousers and a shorter dress, more like a tunic… hmm. He would need a pair of sandals again, Eret too. They could add that to the list. But they were ready now, Eret took one hamper while he took the bottled drinks for the long walk down. Their flock and more trailed behind their combined families, including the whole Sickle-Scale pack, some of those little, chunky pastel dragons, ‘Squidgens’ as Safiyah had named them, and the radiant-gold dragon that had visited their garden. He had a feeling Naji would want to name _that_ one. 

All over al-Mariyah, dragons were starting to mingle. They looked into homes, investigated people as they passed, followed along with growing curiosity and more. They were opening their hearts, bit by bit. Sure, _some_ weren't keen on the noise or light or bustle of the city, but those were content to stay in the caves or surrounding hills. It was a _start,_ and they could build off this. It was a shame there were so few water dragons though, maybe more would come in time. Dreamer could use a little company under the waves, they were still only human after all.

He ditched his boots by the docks and Eret followed his lead, _damn_ did it ever feel good to have sand between his toes again. The Bewilderbeast’s icy throne was still a good measure down the beach, so there would be plenty of space for all of them. With a spot picked, Safiyah and Ghadir threw open the blankets, Javan helped Gran sit comfortably on a cushion, Eret set the food close, but the gaggle of children still lingered, unsure and staring up at the towers of ice.

 **So many,** Dreamer only just peeked over the edge of his perch, almost _shyly._

 **Yes, it's** **_almost_ ** **all our kin. The children are a little scared, they’ve never seen something as big as you. But we’ll show them, won't we?** he said gently.

 **So** **_small_** **!** Dreamer thrummed, squinting to try and focus, **some are yours?**

 **In… a way. They’re kin of kin, my brothers’. But, maybe someday we’ll have our own.** A little twinge of _hope_ still set his heart fluttering.

Kadin was the first to venture closer, newly confident with Scarab at his back and a purple Squidgen under one hand. Dreamer still couldn't _quite_ see, and his tusks didn't let him tilt his head further down, but he tried anyway and showered them all with a puff of snow. His nephew yelped, shaking like a wet dog, but that didn't faze Dreamer one bit.

 **A** **_hatchling_ ** the dragon cooed, eyes narrowing to content slits, **_hatchling_ ** **sounds, not yells.**

Kits are **good** , kits are **brave** Scarab purred, licking the whole side of Kadin’s head with a broad swipe of his tongue, they **fly, no fear.** But, they live **far.**

That had the Squidgen wilting, and it molded to Kadin’s side as the boy wiped his face off on his shirt. **No stay?** it whined. **No...** he had to soothe the little beast, but they can come **back**.

They played, they ate, they rested, and Dreamer watched quietly, observing and soaking it all in. There were still things to consider for tomorrow of course, in the moments between. Hiccup had all his own gear, and he only needed the minimum to get there and back, but Toothless and Scarab just didn't have the room to carry all that plus the camping equipment. Earth-Scar, Stormvein, the Shovelhelm, they were still needed here. And from the looks of it, they might just want to stay permanently. So they were out the extra help, and he should probably bring the Stormcutter’s kids back with him too. Maybe they could enlist one of the new dragons, that Gronckle or-

“The Sickle-Scales!” he said aloud, earning strange looks from Eret and Hiccup.

“Uh, what about them?” his husband prodded.

“We still need some help with the gear, and the pack’s been over the _moon_ about meeting Fox and Nightshade. If one volunteers, that's both problems solved!”

Hiccup shrugged, but the Sickle-Scales were already surging to their feet, crowding close to chant **kin, pack, go?** One in particular, the youngest, knocked him flat on his back and pinned him there, whining **take us, take us!**

“Mercy!” he wheezed, pushing at the dragon’s chin, “And we can't take _all_ of you, we’ll already have too many coming back! Just one!”

The pack drooped, but the one on his chest _kept_ begging **take me, take** **_me!_ ** Hmm. This was a male, perhaps Foxglove’s age? He was a little smaller, but still handsome in black and gold with a blush of red on his brow and wings. Surely he could carry a bag or two, and the kettle, plus that would make a third set of eyes overnight. **Yes,** you can **come** he finally agreed, scratching the dragon’s cheek, before **asking** the rest of the pack for permission. One by one, they agreed, scuffing the sand with their claws.

“Well, now _that’s_ settled, do you have a name?” he asked.

 **Sun-Sting!** The dragon crowed, surging higher to bathe his face in dragon-kisses.

At least that got Toothless laughing again.

It was nearing dinnertime and Cassian was just about ready to call for an end to this little trip. At least, until Lantana broke that train of thought with a pluck of resigned **annoyance.** The **hatchling** is here, she announced with a gruff snort, and Eret rolled his eyes.

“Of _course_ he is. Better have a good excuse.” he muttered.

“Maybe he’s looking for _Affan_ this time.” Cassian chuckled low.

But he could see Enzo hopping down from the dock now, still swarmed by Fireworms and he was trying to walk casually, but there was a certain spring to his step. They watched the smith practically skip all the way down the beach, and he _did_ hone in on Affan, there was still mercy to be found on this earth.

_“There_ you are! I've been looking all over.” Enzo panted, “Crispino sent me, to let you know he should be moved out by the end of the day. So, we can start moving you  _in_ after dinner. He inched his plans up a little.” 

“O-oh.” Affan fidgeted, and Ghadir looked demurely away, “Right. Thank you, we’ll be up shortly, just- just finishing up.”

...ah. Well _there_ was a thought he didn't want to entertain, the newlyweds getting their due privacy. Not that he and Eret were any better of course, but like Safiyah had said, this was his _brother._ It was just… weird.

“I’ll… leave you to that then.” Enzo shifted and started to turn away.

“Wait!” Ghadir blurted, suddenly holding a fine notebook before her like a shield, “Could- could I..?”

Her eyes absolutely _sparkled_ and Enzo looked helplessly to Affan, who shrugged and patted an empty spot on the blanket. _Excellent,_ keep that up you two-

 **You're being** **_weird_ ** **Cass,** Eret’s elbow dug into his ribs.

 **Oh hush,** he jabbed back, **if this makes them all happy,** **_and_ ** **keeps Enzo out of our hair? I dare say it's worth a nudge or two, if they ask us.**

 **Well, if you say so…** Eret sighed, **and you're leaving me** **_alone_ ** **with this.**

 **Am** **_not._ ** **You’ll have Saffy,** he shot back, **and… Enzo doesn't know, about the law. Affan does, but I don’t know if he’s said?**

 **I’ll try to find a way to tell him,** Eret’s hand closed over his.

“...I’ll be alright Cass.” Eret finally said aloud, “I’ve got Safiyah and everyone else. You take all the time you need and come back _safe.”_

“I will, I _swear_ it.” he said, softly for just his husband’s ears.

“And, we’ll probably be moved into the Alcazaba by the time you get back.” Eret thought aloud, “You could send ‘Tura ahead from Balansiyyah, or Montpellier.”

“Maybe.” he agreed, “Or, a Flutterkite from Balansiyyah, _then_ Datura when we’re an hour or two out. That way there’s a better warning, closer I mean. I would bet the emir has _something_ planned for when we’re settled.”

“Yeah, all those _fox’s_ smiles. I won't take a losing bet though, I _know_ something’s coming. I just hope he’s not quite as devious as the twins.” Eret grimaced.

“You and me both.” a shudder crawled up his spine, “But _you_ be safe too. With dragons, and people.”

“I will.” his husband swore, “Don't you worry about me.”

“You know I will anyway.”

“Yeah. And… I’ll miss you.”

“Not as much as I’ll miss _you.”_

**I think it goes without saying, but we’ll be sneaking off again,** Eret’s voice returned, with a soft, teasing lilt.

 **As soon as it's dark,** he agreed.

They had to wrap up their outing first, get home, make dinner, pack and make a quick rope harness for the young Sickle-Scale and finally, run to the market for some food, and more ginger of course. By twilight they were free, so he snagged a blanket and his husband and found the Light Furies for a ride to their cove. The dragons knew well what they were getting up to, and left them to it as he spread out the blanket and pulled Eret down. There was no rush, clothes came off with gentle reverence and the cool night air pricked chickenskin over them both. That shouldn't be a problem for long though. He took his favored place, straddling Eret’s strong thighs, draping arms over his broad shoulders, and for a time they just sat there, brows pressed together, breathing each other in… Eret’s warm hands smoothed up his thighs, squeezing gently until they settled with comforting familiarity on his hips, so _perfectly_ shaped for him and him alone.

“Always liked it this way.” his husband practically purred _,_ “Like that time you _rode_ me.”

He snorted, “And we damn near broke the headboard?”

Now, _that_ was a memory, and he still couldn't recall how many times they’d brought each other to the heights of pleasure. Of course, that was after being gently coaxed open and denied release for nearly an hour. The cheeky bastard. It had been so _good_ though, well worth the effort and just the thought of it was enough to get his pulse rising.

“It's a shame I have to go…” he made a show of sighing, leaning closer to whisper in Eret’s ear, “It's been so long since I’ve had you, and you always fill me so _well.”_

_“Cass.”_ Eret groaned, mouthing at his neck, “Don't go giving me ideas.”

“Ideas?” he hummed, carding fingers through long, silken hair, “What could those be?”

“Well, sand puts a damper on things-” Eret's breath came harder as he struggled to focus, “Don't need _that_ in tender places. Hopefully the emir has the sense to set us up with one big bed.”

“With silk sheets perhaps? And a private bath…” he chuckled.

“Damn, if only.” laughter puffed over his burning skin, “And we _better_ have privacy, I've missed seeing you walk around in nothing but one of my shirts, or that purple silk.”

“The one you almost spoiled the first time I wore it?” he teased, “To think, a little cloth does so much for you!”

“Jab all you want, if you could _see_ yourself…” Eret gasped, grinding him down and the pulse of pleasure set stars flashing in his eyes, “Never really understood the lads going on about legs or tits or- you know, _women._ Sure they can be pretty enough, but there was never a spark there. But you, you were like a _dragon_ the way you moved, stared me down, you weren't _afraid._ I was caught like a fish and didn't even know it-”

“And I was hardly used to men that could toss me around like a loaf of bread.” he was panting now, rolling his hips down, down, “If you’d made advances that night, I would have accepted, _gladly._ But- it's better this way, I might not’ve realized I wanted more. More than just strength and heat, I wanted to see your _soul_ , to share in that.”

He pulled back, cradling Eret’s face in his hands.

“I may have been lonely, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat if I saw what was waiting for me after. _You_ were worth every second. You gave me Berk, and Tyrian and Foxglove, and al-Mariyah again, I-”

A hiccuping half-sob stopped his thoughts, and Eret gathered him close.

“And you gave me _doubt._ I was strong enough to fight back when it mattered most, because you made me look at what I was seeing with fresh eyes.” his husband murmured, low and reverent, “You saved my _life_ with one question Cass. I knew I couldn't just leave you out there.”

Pleasure was forgotten for a time for the sake of being _close,_ pressing every bare inch of skin together. Their hearts were as one, every breath a perfect mirror in time with the ocean waves. There was _peace,_ and Cassian was going to relish it while he still could. This could be their one hidden place, tucked away from everything when they needed it… and he had no doubt they _would_ need it over the next year.

Dawn came soon, far too soon. His bones were lead as he dressed to fly, brought out their packs, filled waterskins, and helped Hiccup load everything on Sun-Sting. The young Sickle-Scale was still so tired, bless him. Somehow the majority of the new flock just wasn't in tune with the rhythm of the sun, how long were they _down_ there? But Mama and Eret roused while they worked, setting it upon themselves to make breakfast and bid their goodbyes after and… it was easier this time. He was coming _right_ back, no promises necessary. 

“You be _careful.”_ Eret demanded anyway, linking their hands tight.

“I will.” he swore, and didn't hesitate to kiss _his husband_ right out in the open.

But Toothless and Scarab had finally returned from the sea, with a dozen eager Flutterkites in tow. It was time.

After one more kiss that seared down to his bones, and a hug for his mother, he peeled himself away to join the little flock in the street. Hiccup was already waiting, so he saddled up, set his goggles in place, and they rose to meet the sun. His heart hurt, so _heavy_ it felt fit to drop right out of his chest. But, he could endure.

They moved swiftly with their reduced numbers and as much as it pained them both, they had to pass Montpellier by. All looked well, at a glance at least. But something was nagging at Hiccup, which meant it bothered Toothless and thus, all of them. It was only when they camped on the northern shores of Normandy, days later, that the chief spoke his mind.

“I’ll need to tell everyone what happened.” Hiccup said, bone-weary already, “They deserve to know. About Drago, and you two staying, all the dragons…”

Cassian watched him sigh, flopping back into the grass to scrub at his eyes.

“But there are so many ways that can go _wrong._ What if they think we need to drive the Bewilderbeast off, or send more people down?”

“I'll be asking Vega and Father to join me, if that makes any difference.” he offered, “But you _are_ the chief. Lay out the facts and what is being done, don't leave anyone in the dark. Maybe… start with Astrid, and the riders. I'm sure they'll have questions, and that can shape what you say to everyone else.”

“Yeah…” Hiccup muttered, but there was _something_ that troubled him still.

He could wait. The sounds of the sea and meager campfire were gentle, soothing, and all the dragons had settled in to sleep as the last light of sunset faded. One particularly clingy blue-black Flutterkite sprawled over his lap, same as every other night, purring **comfort** and **affection.** He idly stroked the little beast’s back, tickling between the tall back-spines, until Toothless heaved a mighty sigh and shifted, dropping his whole head into his rider’s gut.

“ToothLESS-” Hiccup wheezed, shoving at the Fury’s jaw, “Knock it off!”

That only got an **admonishing** huff. **Speak,** Toothless urged, digging into Hiccup’s ribs with his chin, stop **whining** , be **alpha**!

 _“Fine…”_ Hiccup groaned, going limp in defeat.

“Um, chief? Is everything alright?” he dared to ask.

“I've just... been thinking. About Finna.” Hiccup mumbled, “We didn't have it easy growing up, and I don't want to pass all that down to her. Even- _especially_ not by accident.”

“Well, you're in a little luck.” he shifted, unsure of just how much to say, “She’s just a baby, so young she won't even remember when you make mistakes. Because, you _will_ at first, every parent does and she’s your first! It’ll take time to find what she needs, until she’s old enough to tell you herself. But _needing_ to try doesn't mean you're failing either.”

Hiccup nodded once, and his voice trembled faintly, _“Gods_ I can't wait for her to grow up. And, any other kids we might have. There's so much to _show_ them…”

Sleep came a little more easily that night, but only a little. He still missed Eret surely as a limb, and it was too _quiet_ inside his own head. And for the first time in his life, his face was getting all prickly with _stubble_ which itched something awful _._ He would have to endure, just a little longer…

***

He watched Cassian leave, until the dragons were no more than specks and _kept_ watching long after there was nothing. That **awareness** went with them, all those extra thoughts and feelings on the fringes of his mind, even though he clung to it as long as he could. Lantana rolled against his back eventually, echoing his **sorrow** with a soft whine.

“It's alright Tana.” he sighed, patting her neck, “We’ll keep ourselves busy, yeah? They'll be back before we know it, with everyone!”

Lantana **agreed…** but **kin** , she **missed** them.

“Yeah, me too… No sense trying to get back to sleep now, so let's find something to do. Maybe round up those Gronckles? See if they wouldn't mind giving some flying lessons. Get Uncle Isra to pass an invitation to Naji…”

There was still the matter of Ghadir’s family, but they might stick around a few more days. There was still some business to take care of on that front, the leather and furniture and all. But Javan and Marwa were perfectly approachable, he could manage on his own. Right? 

The grey-green Gronckle found _them_ first, halfway to the bay with a whole pack of Gronckles behind her, 10, maybe 12? They were moving too much to count properly, all clamoring for attention and knocking each other about to get closer, asking **fly? Fly** with **_humans?_**

“Hold on, hold on!” he groused, “Down there, to the beach and we’ll talk _properly.”_

Luckily the shore was only a few quick swoops away, and the Gronckles plowed troughs in the sand in their haste to comply. **Wait, quiet!** he and Lantana both barked, and the little flock drooped sheepishly, finally quieting. At least they were eager.

“Sorry, you’re okay. You just need to calm down a little, it's still early.” he patted as many snouts as he could reach, “I’ll need to find some rope before we can try any flying, think you can handle some young folks? I’ll even bring my nieces and nephews.”

They all hummed their subdued **agreement** , but their tails still wagged with anticipation.

“Great! Thanks, all of you. Now, go out and get yourselves some breakfast, I’ll meet you back here. Sound good?”

The grey female ushered the rest onward, out to sea, and now he could get back on track. Rope, the kids, maybe call on some family friends? They could teach the parents too, but if they got a proper crowd they’d have to take turns. Oh, and Uncle Isra, the guard might be out training. The Alcazaba was close after all, they could hit that first. The prospect of seeing **kin** again brought Lantana’s spirits right back, she seemed particularly fond of the man. Something about his smell? He didn’t get it, but at least it wasn't _Enzo_ she was after. The morning air was quiet as they circled higher on the sea breeze, easy as a dream, and angled for the rosy stone fortress. They didn't fear crossing the walls now, though the uppermost level was probably still out of bounds, being the emir’s palace. He wasn't about to be _that_ bold. But there was a gathering in the widest part of the lower yard, and Lantana’s keep eyes picked out their uncle in no time at all. She landed well clear, and Eret was all too aware of a hundred eyes on them as he dismounted and ambled over.

“Morning!” he called, as Isra handed off a helmet and sword, “I’m setting up some flying lessons, down at the beach. The dragons’ll be back in a bit, and I still have to get some rope, then round up the kids, but I thought I’d extend a place to Naji. He seemed eager to give it a go, and it's safer if everyone’s supervised.”

_“Indeed.”_ Isra chuckled, “I’ll send the word out, but he could be late on arriving. Duties and all that. And they  _are_ finishing up that room for you in the middle gardens, a nice quiet corner. There was a wall all torn down, but I think they’re planning to leave it that way, for the dragons. Might be a few days more, and they’ll send word when you can move in.” 

“And I’ll be more than grateful to sleep in a proper bed again! Uh- no offense to Nimat’s hospitality of course, it was just a bit cramped for everyone and we had to camp all the way here-” 

“Easy son, we’ve all had to sleep rough before. I know the feeling well!” Isra slapped him across the back, and short as he was it _still_ had him staggering, “Though… on the  _subject_ of lessons, I’d wager the emir will request the same for the guard. Not today of course, but eventually.” 

“Nah, I expected that. Would about this time work? Since you're already out.” 

“Oh, yes now is good. Or, maybe earlier.” Isra shrugged.

“If you can ride horses, it'll be easy. Just a little practice, easy stuff to start.” he said, “We usually train first timers on Gronckles, they can fly slow so they're great for getting used to the motions. Good for low patrolling too, and they're small enough to get around most of these streets.”

“Those are the lumpy ones, yes?” Isra asked, and he nodded, “Right, I see your point. A sound plan for now, but I'm sure saddles will help further down the line.”

“That they will. I’ll be talking to our new sister-in-law’s father about getting more leather for that, and my Dad’s turned into one of Berk’s finest saddlemakers. We’ll find a way. And I'm sure the dragons’ll settle a bit more in that time.” 

“True again. Now, it's a bit early for the market, let's see if we have any rope around…” 

Eret set off for home with a few skeins of soft-worn rope around his shoulder. Even _Safiyah_ should be awake at this hour, and Snotlout too. They could be a decent helping set of hands, or Jarrah and Inara. They’d probably want to watch over their own kids.

“Alright, perk up you two. We’ve got plans.” he ruffled Snotlout’s hair as he passed through the kitchen.

“Hey!” the tailor swatted weakly at him, “I’m not a _dog!”_

“Coulda fooled me.” he snorted, “Let’s rally the kids, as many as we can find.”

Jarrah and Inara did join them, and helped herd all five nieces and nephews out the door. Ali and Basira and Feryal scattered out the garden gate, already shouting for their friends all up and down the streets. There was no real rush, but the crowd grew behind them as they led the way to the docks, then the beach, with Lantana and the Nightmares fluttering overhead. The Gronckles had beat them there, but kept themselves entertained with some good scrubs and rolls through the sand. Now, how to tie the rope? A double-loop maybe, over the neck in front of their legs, cross between them and back up behind, tie it off for some handles… Yeah, that should do it.

“Alright Snots, help me out.” he tossed a skein of rope over.

“We shoulda brought _Fishlegs…”_ Snotlout groused.

“Oh stop your whining. Would you rather _Legs_ get all the attention?” he jabbed, then leaned conspiratorially closer, _“Safiyah’s_ attention?”

Snotlout glowered hotly, flushing red to his hairline. “Shut up.”

“Chickens’ve come home to roost _now_ Jorgensen!” he danced away from the rope that whipped at his head, “Shouldn’t dish it if you can't take it!”

With a strangled roar Snotlout bullrushed him, artless and obvious and off-balance in the sand. Snickering, Eret slipped out of his way again and again, weaving in and around all the Gronckles who were content to watch, chuffing their **amusement.**

“Oh, almost got me that time!” he crowed, vaulting over Mars’s tail.

“And I’ll _chop all your pretty hair off-”_ Snotlout’s raging cut off sharply with a grunt.

He turned to find the man dangling sheepishly from Mars’s jaws, shying away from Safiyah’s pointed glare.

 _“Children,_ the both of you.” she scoffed, “There’s work to do, so knock it off!”

She marched over and snatched the rope from Snotlout’s hands then… paused beside the nearest Gronckle, looking helpless between the dragon and the tangle of cord.

“Uh. What were we doing with this?” she finally gave up.

“Just making a little harness. Here, measure about _this_ much, wind it down and back, up again, get a good square knot-”

At least their class didn't mind the temporary delay, soon enough the dozen Gronckles were kitted to ride. He took charge and parted the class into groups, with the lion’s share under his watch. Safiyah, Jarrah and Snotlout could handle the teenagers and a few adults while Inara would help him with the youngest, but they _all_ had to start with the basics.

“So, this isn't as hard as it looks, but it is polite to start by just… saying hello.” he said, loud and clear, “Give them a little space, hold out your hand and let them come to you-  _Raimi_ don't stick your fingers in her nose! Are you mad?!” 

“But- it's so _big!”_ his nephew protested.

_“Fire_ comes out that end! Do you really want her sneezing?” he sighed, scrubbing over his face.

“Oh…” Raimi fidgeted, but his Gronckle rumbled and nuzzled him anyway.

That was the only such incident to his relief, and students of all ages were doing well, enough to try putting the first batch of riders on dragons. He had to help a few of the youngest up, show them how to sit comfortably and hold on, and for a start they would just be walking around. Gronckles did have a lot of roll and sway to their stride, like a sailor that lost his land-legs, so he and Inara had to walk beside Feryal and Basira, the youngest by far, to steady them. There was laughter, bewildered whoops and nervous calls for equally-nervous parents, until he announced a break and swapped riders for another go.

After an hour they were ready for a first, short hover down the beach, for anyone brave enough at least, but after that he had to call lessons to an end. The Gronckles were weary, and their students had their own lives to attend to. So, Jarrah and Inara led everyone home, and he set about untying the harnesses from their very patient new friends to let them go back to wherever they liked hanging out. Naji never turned up and though that left him disappointed, he wasn't about to demand the kid skip _real_ lessons. The rest of _his_ day was free though, maybe he could manage some one-on-one tutoring. This was the emir’s son after all, he _should_ have a little more dedicated attention. If anything happened to that kid…

“Eret, where do you want this rope?” Safiyah called, waving a few coils over her head.

“I'll take it, save ‘em for next time.” he strolled her way, “So, that went pretty well. Don't think we can get the Gronckles in on it every day though, this is still new for them too. Now, what else needs doing…”

“Better find a place for dragons to do their business.” Snotlout said, nose wrinkling in disgust, _“I’m_ not gonna be the one telling the city they’ll be shoveling their weight in dragon-”

“We get it!” he cut in, “Point made, I'll take a gander around the hills. Maybe there's a way to process it into fertilizer for all the gardens.”

That would have to be far from any water too, so it didn't contaminate the bay or springs, but still close enough for the dragons to go and _use_ it. Maybe Lantana could handle that part, with some help from Dreamer. And there were still the caves to explore, what mysteries could they hold? Distractions, endless distractions. He hoped it would be enough.

Naji found _him_ as it turned out, with that gold dragon on his heels like a shadow. The poor kid was completely out of breath, catching himself over the dragon’s neck when his knees wobbled. Oh, they _really_ needed to get him in training.

_“Easy_ bud, whats the rush? Here, we’re almost home, let's get you something to drink…” he slipped an arm under Naji’s, hauling the boy to his feet.

“I’m sorry- I’m so late.” he panted, tugging at his collar.

“It's nothing, really. I'm sure you've got a lot on your plate. Just focus on _breathing.”_

Naji nodded, and the dragon that may-as-well-be-his followed still. They would need a name for the beastie, the species at least. Something about glowing or horns…

That little table was still in the garden, nicely shaded by the walls, so he parked the kid on a stool and slipped inside for that pitcher of sherbet he knew was cooling. Nimat seemed to be the only one home, sorting through the larder while she wrote out a list.

“Jarr- Oh, Eret!” she started, and trailed into a little laugh, “I'm sorry, I didn't see you.”

“It's fine, I was being quiet.” he shrugged, “I was after something to drink, Naji’s gonna run himself into the ground at this rate. Poor kid…”

“Wh- he’s back?” 

“Yeah, he missed the lessons this morning, so we’ll make up for it. Once he cools down anyway, I think he bolted all the way here.” there were the cups, the pitcher…

“Hold on, you wait a minute with that-” Mama threw her list down and rushed outside.

Wait for what? He followed, easing both cups into one hand and rebalancing the pitcher in the other, and found Nimat kneeling at Naji’s side. She peered into the boy’s eyes, tested the pulse at his wrists, then the heat of his brow, before finally waving him over. The pitcher and a cup were snatched from his hands as Nimat stood.

“Drink _slowly_ dear, or you'll shock your heart.” she said firmly, filling the glass, “It's going to be _far_ too hot to keep rushing around young man! You're just like Cassian…”

That had Naji perking up, “Really?”

“Yes, and you even brought a strange wild beast to my doorstep.” she shook her head _almost_ fondly, considering the dragon with her hands on her hips, “I nearly miss the frogs.”

Naji went quiet, taking a first tentative sip of his drink, then a few more.

“Now for _you,_ I'll need some shopping done. Just a few more things for the list...” 

“Oh. I’ll have to re-write that, never got around to reading Andalusi.” he admitted.

“I can read it for you!” Naji offered quickly.

Nimat floundered, half aghast and half… honored, “No, that's- that's fine we’ll manage!”

“It's really no trouble!” Naji insisted.

“And we can even get you riding along the way!” he gave the boy a nudge, “We were only at the beach so little kids would fall on sand, not stone. If you know how to ride already, you should be fine for a walk. Just cool down first, and keep breathing.”

Naji swayed a little in his seat, and promptly took another careful drink.

“I'll be training the guards too, at some point.” he added, “Maybe we can find the time to work in some exercise. After all, Cass wasn’t much more fit than… well, you are now, when he first came to Berk. it took hard work, but you've seen what he can do.”

“Yes, I have…” Naji practically whispered into his cup. Was he blushing _?_

 _Oh._ Eret pretended not to notice as he poured himself a glass of sherbet, and Nimat took the pitcher back after a brief, _knowing_ look.

“Be right back with the list.” she said, slipping back inside.

So, he sat, put his cup aside, and unwound a few coils of rope. Yeah, these were probably too short. With a quick loop and a twist, he lashed the ends of two lengths together and set the rest aside.

“So, running.” he said, taking a long drink, “It's not about going as hard as you can, you  _want_ to start slow and easy. Maybe just a loop around the garden, morning and night when it's cool and only fast enough to be a challenge. You shouldn't feel like _this_ after.” 

“Yes-” Naji cleared his throat a few times, “This is… not a good feeling.”

“The beginning can be rough, but give it a few weeks and you’ll find it's a little easier, you can push a little harder, on and on it goes until you're doing things you never thought you could.” he offered a small smile, “But  _listen_ to your body, you shouldn't be in pain. Take breaks, drink lots of water, don't test the heat, all that.” 

Once the ruddy flush cooled from Naji’s face they were ready to go, armed with Nimat’s list. He carefully arranged the rope around the golden dragon’s chest and legs, leaving enough slack for handles, and stirrups too.

“You think of a name for this fella yet?” he asked as he gave Naji a boost up.

“Wh- _can I?_ Name him, I mean.” 

“Don't see why not, he's pretty keen on you.” 

The dragon thrummed his **agreement,** long neck twisting so he could watch the boy settle on his back. To his credit, Naji found his balance quickly and set his feet in the stirrups, gripping just-right with his knees and squaring his shoulders.

“I’ll have to think about it.” Naji hummed, “He deserves a good name.”

“Fair enough. Now, be ready to move with him. He shouldn't sway too bad, but there might be a bit of up and down. Follow me old boy, thank you…” 

The great dragon trundled along and Eret kept pace just behind his shoulder, ready to catch Naji if he should take a tumble. But the boy settled in nicely, rolling at the waist to match the dragon’s steps and keep his head steady. They attracted plenty of attention as they went, it seemed most of the city knew the emir’s son at a glance and now he was on a _dragon._ But Naji didn't care in the least, smiling so wide it had to hurt and the dragon echoed his **delight.** And so, they went shopping. Naji read from the list and held the bigger bags of rice and lentils and beans over his lap, while still guiding the dragon carefully through the streets. The small Squidgens and Flutterkites mingled freely here, Eret made sure to check with the merchants that they weren't causing trouble. But, it was quite the opposite. They were hunting rats and mice already, and all their flapping kept clouds of insects at bay. Good, good… a great start. Couldn't get complacent though.

They were finished by lunchtime, and Naji rode all the way home. Once the groceries were delivered though, it was time to get the kid home and maybe, _just_ maybe, he was ready for a first flight.

_“So!”_ he announced, dusting off his hands, “Let's not worry your father too much, I’d like to stay on his good side. Not too sore, are you?”

“Not at all! This is pretty easy actually.” Naji shrugged, “A saddle would make it even better.”

“Good to hear!” he grinned, only a _little_ deviously, “How about we fly you back?”

Naji gawped and the dragon purred his **interest** , already spreading his wings-

“Wait, wait _just_ a second now!” he waved the beast down, “Let's get around the back first.”

Huffing **annoyance,** the dragon complied and followed him to the hill when the Stormcutters were resting. Seems Lantana was still out, and the Shovelhelm had more or less moved in with Affan, so he’d manage a spin on Stormvein. Valka had taught him a thing or two, whether she knew it or not.

“Takeoff is the hard part.” he explained on the way, “You’ll want to keep as low and close to his neck as possible. Shift your grip on the rope a bit- yeah, just like that. Pull up and inwards, towards your chest, keep your elbows in close, and an even pressure with your legs, knees and ankles both. Once he levels out, you can relax. Storm, let's go!”

The Stormcutter offered a claw for a lift up to his shoulders, which he readily took and found his seat by the first tall back spine, for a firm grip. Stormvein wheeled, sparing a single, **smug** glance back to the gold stranger before raising his wings to the wind and _launching._ It was easy enough for him to ride out the wild surge of power, so he kept his eyes trained on Naji, behind then beside them. The boy was incredible, calm and focused with perfect posture, and his dragon practically shook with the new **thrill.** At a comfortable height both dragons slowed, easing close enough to speak.

“You're doing great!” he shouted, as much laughter as word, “The hard part’s over, now you can just enjoy the ride! Your friend sure is!”

The dragon howled, low and melodic and **joyful** as Naji threw his arms wide to the sky, and in that moment he was so _like Cassian_ it nearly knocked him from Stormvein’s back.

There was space enough to land in the upper half of the Alcazaba, just shy of that tip-top castle where they always met the emir. Stormvein came down easy and Eret slid off one wing as the gold dragon coasted in behind them, slow and gentle as a puff of thistledown. He offered a shoulder for balance, catching Naji as he wobbled and half-dropped off the dragon’s back, giddy and giggling.

“That was- that-” the boy _laughed_ and leaned hard on his dragon’s neck, hugging tight.

Before he could reply, Stormvein thrummed **familiar, kin**. The dragon was looking upwards, at a balcony a few measures over their heads where Khayran looked down on them.

“Uh. Look sharp bud, your Dad’s here.” he muttered, shifting nervously.

“Father?” Naji jolted, and quickly tried to straighten his hair and clothes, “I’m back! And, we didn't go far! Or do anything wild…”

“I see.” Khayran’s eyes creased, almost tenderly, “Come, fill me in with a proper report, like we practiced. But your new friend might not fit, I’m afraid.”

“I’ll take care of the glowy lad, you go on ahead. Try having yourself a little run tonight, or tomorrow morning. I'm sure we can meet up for another lesson.” he said.

“Right! Uh- thank you!” Naji blurted, flushing with embarrassment immediately after.

He scurried away and the gold dragon so nearly followed, sighing forlornly and when Eret snuck one last glance at Khayran, he had that _look_ about him again. A _plotting_ look.

Ghadir’s family was next on the list, planning the return trip and talking a little business, then getting them familiar with a few Flutterkites. But Ghadir’s uncle, Farid if he heard correctly, did have a request: a trip to Seville to get things moving with that old client of his. Judging by the maps, the distance was half that between al-Mariyah and Cordoba, another hour at the most. More than easily done, and they could show the Flutterkites the route too. A few of the little dragons could stay, maybe just in Cordoba for now, to start mail flowing. Javan seemed convinced delivering mosques would be the key, people would know better than a dragon who a letter was meant for. Planning best saved for later, Cassian would probably have a better idea of what to do. And Ghadir had some devious air about her.

“So!” Ghadir scurried to catch up with him, linking their arms,  _“Uncle_ thinks the city may want to commemorate your heroism one day. Maybe we should _prepare.”_

“What for? We _could_ stop Drago, so we had a duty to. Don't need a statue for that.” he fidgeted with his belt, just for something to do.

“That's not what the city thinks.” Ghadir pressed, “The ones that were close enough to see the whole thing, they started  _whispering._ Obviously not around you or Cassian, but they don't know _our_ family yet, so I’ve heard a few things. They saw you stop that warlord in his tracks, fight him back, run right up that dragon’s tusk… maybe handling dragons is routine to you, but here? That's the stuff of legends! And if what I've heard about that man is even half true, I don't doubt for a minute you saved more than al-Mariyah. So why not take a little praise? You've earned it! Just, don't let it go to your head.” 

She giggled so sweetly, accepting Affan’s arm once he caught them up.

“You could come with us tomorrow.” he offered after a moment, “You know this business with Seville, there’s plenty of room…”

“Thank you." she smiled, though it wobbled and wavered around the edges.

The trip to Cordoba and then Seville went fine, Uncle Farid even got himself that approval he needed from his client. The Flutterkites finally seemed to understand what he meant about carrying things, so that was a plan one step further along. By the time they got back to Cordoba, all the furniture they’d come for was waiting in the street, ready to airlift out. With one last tearful goodbye, they returned home to al-Mariyah, but not without leaving one Flutterkite with Ghadir’s family. They wouldn't ever have to worry about keeping in touch. Jarrah and his family would be next, in a few more days. Now that the mad rush was over they could all relax, but not long enough for Cass to return. Oh well, they were just a skip away, an easy visit.

There was still a bit of… _awkwardness_ between him and Jarrah, and Zayd to a lesser extent. Not animosity or suspicion no, just… nobody knew what to say, without Cass as a buffer. Didn't seem to be an issue for Daniyah or Inara, and _especially_ not his nieces and nephews. They just rolled with the waves. He was their brother, their _uncle,_ and that hit him like a Gronckle at full-tilt at least three times a day. And the night the twins fell asleep slumped against his side, he damn near cried like a baby. But… there was still the matter of Reza. He’d barely seen the man since the wedding, and hadn’t heard two words even then. Maybe Uncle Isra would know more, have some sort of insight. They _did_ need to check in on Naji too…

He and Lantana had an understanding with the guards, when it came to flying in. The very top level was still out of bounds, which he supposed was fair, but if they were gonna be living there, they did need to come and go freely. That room must nearly be done, right? The prospect was looking mighty fine, it was beautiful up here…

“Alright Tana, time for work.” he sighed, patting the Fury’s neck.

She groaned, stretching hard and catlike before lurching to her feet, and together they launched into the morning air. It was pleasantly cool still, perfect for an early run and the garrison seemed to be out training, perfect.

“Morning Uncle!” he shouted as Lantana dropped to prance closer, “Naji out yet?”

“That he is!” Isra laughed heartily, “You sure lit a fire under him, morning and night he’s running around this garden! Not so long ago,  _nothing_ could get that boy out of the library. You didn't hear it from _me_ , but the emir was looking awfully worried, before Naji found his spark with all this.” 

Isra leaned close for that last bit, sly and conspiratorial.

“Sounds a lot like Hiccup, in that respect.” he said, “But, I've been meaning to talk to Reza. Don't know what I’d say, but I have to try something."

“Well, he's been a little more… like his old self the last few days.” Isra turned, beaconing for him to follow, “He had some sort of talk with Cassian and I haven't a clue what was said, but I dare think it's a start.’

“Cass didn't tell me either, he might’ve just… been mulling it over still. Married or not, I can't do his thinking for him.” he sighed, resigned to that, “If I can, I’ll… I dunno, offer some perspective. He never really  _knew_ Cass, I don't think very many did. That's why it was so easy to leave, at first anyway.” 

“It took an _age_ to hear about that…” Isra frowned, brows pinching, “Reza marched himself all the way to Cordoba, hoping he’d come to us. He hadn't of course, that was the first we’d heard he was missing. They were frantic,  _beside_ themselves…” 

Eret’s gut churned, some sort of sympathetic guilt, and the cool shade was no comfort.

“He didn't believe they would react that way.” he muttered, “Not at first. He was still hurting, and if you don't feel seen,  _loved_ even right under someone’s nose, why would you think you’d be missed? Not saying he was right, but… that's how he felt. I was the same way.” 

Isra shot him a questioning look, so he took a deep breath.

“I lost my mom young, and Dad, he- he didn't take it well. He kinda just… forgot how to be a father, so he settled on being a captain instead. I resented him for all of it, and left to strike out on my own. Never thought I’d see him again, but I never could've accounted for Cass.” he chuckled weakly, “He dragged my old man back half-dead from fever, I got out a few choice words… It took some time, but he proved he saw what he did wrong, that he  wanted to change. And, now I have a dad again.” 

“I’m sorry, for your loss.” Isra said gently, then after a pause, “I  _think_ I remember seeing your father at that party, with those same marks. Hard to miss-” 

“Mr. Eret!” Naji skidded to a stop from his rush down a side path.

“You really don't have to ‘mister’ me, I’m not _that_ old.” he snorted, “But, you're looking well! Not pushing too hard, right?”

“No, not after last time. That was _awful.”_ the boy’s breath came hard as he dabbed the sweat from his face with the hem of his shirt. Yeah, he was okay.

Isra cleared his throat, but his smile was playful when Naji jolted.

“Captain! I’m sorry, I didn't see you-” 

_“Relax_ son, I’m only playing.” Isra chortled, ruffling the boy’s hair.

Naji ducked away with an annoyed groan, nose wrinkling so _adorably_ it was like a shock of heat through Eret’s core, that same confounding burn drawn out by his own nephews- 

Damn. Well… looks like it was his turn, getting bit by that _bug._

“Alright, it's gonna be a hot day.” he gave Naji a little nudge as he passed, “Let’s finish this lap, then I'll teach you about dragon teeth.”

That got Naji sparking back to attention and gunning down the path with a breathless shout of ‘This way!’. He made his apologies to Isra and set off in easy pursuit, catching up in a few measured strides to rein Naji back, setting an easy pace and leading where the shadows were still cool and deep. Now, he could coax the boy into better posture, pass on little words of encouragement as they came to mind, and only later he would realize that was… what he’d always needed to hear, at that age. Funny, how the little things added up.

But all that morning, he was _keenly_ aware of eyes following their every move, especially as they passed under that balcony of the highest keep. Which, was fair. He was a stranger hanging out with the emir’s son. But he couldn't shake the thought of those _looks_ either.

His- _their_ room was ready by the end of the week, so he moved what little they had in that evening. It was tucked out of the way against the seaward wall, below one of the upper keep’s round towers. Manicured trees sheltered the yard out front from view and evening sun, and true to Isra’s word, a whole section of wall was replaced with standing latticed screens. Of course, that was well-hidden too, you’d have to be knocking on their door to even see it. There wasn't much for decoration around, save the low table beside the front door. Maybe they could spruce it up a little, get some flowers in one of those window-boxes. Lantanas and foxgloves of course, for some color, or maybe herbs. 

_Inside_ was another matter. The room beyond the door was wide open, carpeted in rich rugs, with thin curtains covering the open wall and windows, billowing gently in the breeze. Thicker hangings blocked off the back, where the bed was maybe? Yes, the bed, a nice _plush_ one with thick pillows, soft bedclothes and- Thor almighty, _silk_ sheets! And there, a little door to a washroom with it's own sunken bath, and a privy. He’d have to ask how the bath worked later, the rest was easy enough to puzzle out. The furniture was nice, finely made, and sturdy despite it's delicate look. The low table in front with cushions instead of chairs, some side-tables by the bed, and a bookshelf, currently empty, and still there was room for more. But there was another covered doorway, to a small room that was empty of anything that would show it's use. No shelves, chests, rugs… it couldn't be a pantry, there was nowhere to cook. Maybe just a space to store things.

The day was done, and dinner was _brought_ to him, imagine that! But he was more than happy to rest at least in a proper bed, and with just him alone… it was too big. There was no cool, anchoring weight under his arm, no heartbeat against his chest or under his palm, no breath fanning across his throat… Eret sighed, turning to a cooler side of the cloudy-down pillow. Just a little longer, and Cass would be back. Be _home._

***

Berk was finally in their sights, but there was too much to do to take any joy in it. Cassian frowned, scratching at the ever-growing stubble as he ran through that tentative plan again. Fill in the riders with Hiccup, then let them plan the rest, hunt down their flock to fill _them_ in, and tomorrow he would pack. Another day of rest, then they would start the return flight, he ached to the bone and loathed the prospect of doing it all again, but he couldn't keep his husband waiting. A good soak in the hot springs might help, lonely as it may be…

Cloudjumper and Stormfly were quick to intercept them, already barking **alarm** over their missing numbers. It took a more emphatic declaration of **wait** from Toothless to get them to follow calmly, all the way to the Haddock home. Villagers were gathering below and Astrid rushed from the house with Finna tucked in her arms, but her joy quickly turned to confusion.

“Where’s Eret?” she asked, voice already straining, “Hiccup, what-”

“Everything’s fine, I promise. But we need to get everyone to the hall, don't wanna tell this story more than I have to.” Hiccup pressed a kiss to her cheek, “The riders, Mom, Gobber, Eret sr., Vega, them first. Then the whole village.”

That was in motion then. Cassian called Sun-Sting over to remove his pack, no sense making the poor boy wait, and it was only a matter of time before his flock caught wind. Scarab had already labored off towards the mountains, to the cave no doubt…

 **Father!** Came a frantic cry, far at first and then again, closer. Foxglove landed hard and fast, skidding on the stone steps as she charged-

Then barked in **alarm,** stopping so short she tumbled and fell flat on her chin, while Sun-Sting scrambled to hide behind him. Only when she went still with shock did the little male peek out from behind his knees, and the Sickle-Scales stared and stared and _stared._

“Quite a lot happened dearest.” he crouched to pet Fox’s brow, “But there are more like _you_ in al-Mariyah, Sun-Sting is one of many. You'll be coming with us this time.”

But the dragons heard nothing, eyes trained on each other with their pupils blown black as **awe** rang back and forth like a chorus of bells.

Soon enough, they were gathered like a war council around the head table, just the riders as they planned and he he sat at Hiccup’s right. Father and Gobber looked fit to drop, get on with it already-

“Everything started fine.” Hiccup finally said, “But we weren't the only ones visiting and Drago Bludvist was less dead that we thought. He made a move-”

 _“What?!”_ Valka and Father nearly leapt across the table.

“He never made it off the docks.” he cut in, “And now he’s feeding the fish of the Imperial Sea. But the Bewilderbeast is his own now, and a whole flock was released from under al-Mariyah. I’ve come to terms with the emir and we will teach them all that we know, but Eret and I have to stay for a year to prove it can work. He's still there, with Snotlout and Safiyah to keep everything in order.”

“We have a way to keep contact.” Hiccup added, “New dragons to ferry messages.”

“And, we’ll need a saddlemaker.” he nudged Father under the table, “Another dragonspeaker too, if you're willing Vega.”

Valka and Vega both turned to Toothless to see his side of the story, but all his attention was on Father as he sucked a ragged breath, slumping in relief.

“It was your bow that brought him down.” he said, almost choking with gratitude, “After Eret beat him within an inch of his life of course. And, he finished it.”

Father nodded, still drawn and pale as he leaned into the arm Gobber draped over his shoulders.

“And… you trust the beast?” Valka asked, straining to keep her venom at bay.

“His name is Dreamer. And whatever you imagined Dragon did to him… it doesn't even come close. That whole story about losing his village was a _lie.”_ he sneered, fists clenching tight, “He found Dreamer young, kept him chained and then beat him into submission and beyond. _That's_ how he lost his arm. But we got through to Dreamer, and now he is ready to be a true Alpha, to protect al-Mariyah. Recovery will be a long road, but he’ll have us and all the space he needs in the Sea.”

After a tense moment, and a nudge from Toothless, Valka heaved a resigned sigh.

“And the new dragons?” she prodded.

“Mom, they're _incredible.”_ Hiccup’s grin returned, “More Light Furies, Sickle-Scales, Gronckles and Hobblegrunts, and so many _more_ that we’ve never seen before! We’ve got sketches- later. Later…”

Hiccup reigned himself in, rocking Finna when she started to fuss and he ducked to kiss her brow.

“Like Cassian said, they made a deal. A year down south so dragons don't get turned into weapons again and- Wait. What was that other thing, the one you left for?”

Cassian stiffened, and his fingers twitched over the wood.

“It was more about _people_ than dragons.” he admitted, “People like _us._ Al-Mariyah is already changing, all my fears were unfounded… well, now at least, I don't know about before. But, maybe there could be _more_ done, and we can truly come out of the shadows, be _part_ of-”

“Cassian.” Vega stood sharply, and her arms shook despite being braced against the table, “What are you saying? You _can't_ mean-”

“It hasn’t been treated as a crime in al-Mariyah for half a decade. The emir knows of us and _still_ moved us into the Alcazaba. He hasn't said one way or another yet, whether fostering will be possible… but he considered the proposal fairly.” he leveled an earnest look her way, “That's why I thought of you. But you'll always be welcome here.”

Vega slumped back into her seat, pale as a ghost, and Valka patted her shoulder.

“Lodgings will need some arrangement, Eret was going to work on that… But I'll be going back in three days. The journey will be long of course, I understand if it's too short notice.” he sighed, eyelids growing heavy.

“Of _course_ I’m coming son, I'll start packing.” Father nudged him back.

“And I'm going too.” Gobber said firmly.

“What?”

“Gobber-”

“Are you sure?”

 _“You've_ gone running off plenty Hiccup, now it's _my_ turn. I'm cashing in my retirement!” Gobber waved the rest off, “Grockles mean Gronckle _iron_ , and someones gotta teach ‘em right! And Grump’s always wanted a vacation.”

“Summers are _scorching_ Gobber, it's not all fun and games.” he warned.

“I'm in front of a forge all day, I'll live.” the smith shrugged.

“I… I must consider.” Vega murmured.

“I understand. Take your time.” he said gently, “But, now we have to tell the rest of the village. Any concerns?”

Hiccup just sighed long and low, cradling Finna close.

There was anger of course, and horror, and a _touch_ of relief, but no one protested his mission. Hiccup retreated to his home with Astrid and Valka once they were finished, and Father did the same after teasingly grinding his knuckles into all the new stubble on his jaw. Before he could slip home himself, Vega just _materialized_ on the steps of the Great Hall and dragged him off by the elbow. Seriously, how did she _do_ that?

“Vega, you only need to ask-” he groused, stumbling along beside her.

“Hush, child.” she muttered.

They rounded the crooked spire, and marched nearly all the way to the spindly bridge with Simurgh and Foxglove hot on their heels. Oh, Sun-Sting too, a little further back.

“How do you know this?” Vega finally asked, pacing restlessly once she released him.

“The short version? My uncle had the means and a reason to look through court records, and then he went asking. The emir ordered such crimes to be ignored, and he pardoned any accused. _That_ he told me himself.” he recounted, “I don't know why he would, or for whom, but that is the new way of al-Mariyah. Maybe it's not perfect, but turning a blind eye is miles better than the stories I've heard elsewhere.”

Vega paced and paced, chewing on the edges of her nails until Simurgh chided her, and nosed her hands away. She sighed, leaning hard on the dragon’s brow.

“And, you proposed allowing our kin to _foster?_ He actually listened to you?” 

“Yes, that surprised me as well. And any objections weren't his own. He made no commitment either way, but Eret suspects the emir has something planned.” he frowned, mulling over all those talks again, “First he asked if we had proof it could work, then said something about proving our convictions, but I don't know if he was talking about  _dragons_ or more. That's all he mentioned, as part of the deal. We’ll just… have to wait and see.” 

“Foxglove has told me, about the family you’ve always wanted.” Vega said, a touch sheepish, “Datura as well. If it's possible… would you try?”

“Yes, God I-” he froze, turning slowly.

Foxglove sat well away, her back to him with her head hung low as she scuffed her claws through the dirt.

“Fox?” he croaked, staggering closer, “Fox, please, look at me.”

She whined, wings drooping and tail falling limp as **guilt** and **sorrow** rolled out in waves. **Foxglove** he pressed, scrambling to fall on his knees before her, **look, please.** He hauled the dragon’s chin up and even then she wouldn't meet his eyes, keening **guilt** again and tears ruined his vision. Shuffling closer, he forced under her neck to hug her properly, squeezing with all the strength he had left. **Daughter-mine, always,** he sniffled hard and gasped for the burn in his throat, **pack, kin,** even if you have scales and I don't. You've made us so **happy,** we **love** you more than anything please, **please-** We could **never** replace you, we _would_ never. And… if we did take another in, the child would be you **kin** too, your **family.** It wouldn't be a family without _you._

_“Please_ Fox.” he scratched gently at her scales, “We won't push you away. We don't even know if this will happen at all. But we still want you to come and, so does Sun-Sting.”

At his **call** the Sickle-Scale inched closer, hunkered low, unsure, but still radiating **sympathy** and **concern.** Foxglove sighed in a long, high whistle, rubbing her chin over his shoulders and back. **Love** she warbled, **Father, kin… Daughter-mine,** he murmured like a prayer.

Their home was a little dusty and wanted airing out. Luckily, Fishlegs volunteered to mind it for them until Safiyah got back, and the Haddocks would take Snowdrop. There was much to pack… the winter clothes could stay at least, his good boots and slippers too. Maybe he should take Eret’s fine cloak, in case they ever had to show off. Their wedding mantles would be all they needed for the mild Andalusi winter, and they’d already taken all their warm-weather clothes. If they needed more, they could make it down there. The armor should come, just in case… after a good oiling. Planning today, packing tomorrow-

 _Skullcrusher._ He had to see Skullcrusher, and the Wraiths. And, hunt down the Stormcutter's sons.

Crucible, Andarax and their darling daughter were more than happy to come. The poor hatchling’s wing was in far better sorts, thanks to Hiccup’s various splints, but it was still slightly misshapen and she tired easily. That was no matter, she was so small the rest of the flock could take turns carrying her. Foxglove soon returned with Tyrian, Nightshade and the Reapers, who promptly knocked him flat, swarming around where he lay. They snorted **admonishment** and **frustration,** but that quickly faded into **joy** and **demands** to go, go see **kin**!

“Yes, we’re going!” he laughed breathlessly, “All of us! Let me up, let me up-”

He had to give Scorpion a good push to free up his face, and Tyrian hauled him back to his feet once he got an arm around the dragon’s nose-horn. **Skullcrusher,** he posed to them, **where?** Nightshade showed him first, a glen in the mountains that he’d only seen once.

“Mind giving me a lift there dearest? We need to invite him too.” 

It was tricky without a saddle, but now that there were no wounds to worry about he could sit astride her neck and just cling for those few minutes to the little hollow. Only three of the ladies were about, plus the young blue male, all kept busy entertaining the rabble of hatchlings. Of course those ‘hatchlings’ were as tall and broad as Gronckles now, with proper long Rumblehorn tails and growing wings, and little nubs for horns. Nightshade chirped a gentle **greeting** before landing on the far side of the clearing, staying perfectly still there. Even a Sickle-Scale didn't dare test a mother Rumblehorn’s patience. All five hatchlings bolted their way as he slipped to the ground, and they were just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen them, barely dry from their eggs. Three were probably female, now that their colors were coming in, silver and cream and bronze-black, leaving two males in ruby-red and a lighter peridot green, and all of them milled around his legs, pawing at his boots in turns. **Kin!** they peeped, **other kin, where? ...far** he answered, though he tried to mask any longing, **far away.**

A familiar, rippling chuff and the crash of undergrowth had the young ones scattering again, and Skullcrusher burst into the clearing in all his new-grown glory. He’d grown in every direction, taller, wider, longer, with new spikes and armor bristling all over. It was his horns that changed the most, shifting into a broad crescent covered in tines like a deer’s antlers. A Titan-wing, Valka had called him. At her best guess, living with a herd of his own kind had sparked this transformation. But the Rumblehorn snuffed and sniffed, thrusting his nose right into Cassian’s hands.

“Yes, it's good to see you too!” he laughed, hugging as much of the dragon as he could.

Crush’s **joy** sank into **concern** as his nostrils flared again. Eret’s scent was weak and thin on him, **where**? Skullcrusher pressed harder. **Home** , with **kin** , he scratched whatever he could reach, and there we must **stay**. There are **many** dragons, they need our **help** , so we must stay for a **year.** Both of us. Can… **can** you **come** with us?

Skullcrusher drooped, and for a long while he considered the brood still bickering around his feet. It took the honey-bronze female butting into his flank with an extra **admonishing** snort to tip the scales. **Go** she ordered, hatchlings are **big, safe, strong**. Going **too** , the blue male piped up, pawing at the ground, **big, strong now!** Skullcrusher sighed, nuzzling both in turn, then his children, and finally rumbled his **agreement.**

Their bed was too big, too cold, too _empty,_ even with all their furs and blankets _and_ Snowdrop.

In the morning, he pulled their chests and saddlebags down from the rafters and started packing. The armor would be tricky, he may need some help with that, and they would still need the stands. Lash those to the chests maybe. Oh, their wedding quilt, that was coming too, but he’d save that for the last day. He would have to trust Gobber and Father to pack all they needed, for tools and clothes. Father knew what to expect for the weather, so that was some comfort. Vega had and needed little, that hadn’t changed, though her wardrobe had expanded a _little_ the last few months thanks to the boredom of winter. She’d even made herself a proper staff, not unlike Valka’s, elegantly carved and curved, but still with enough heft to be a threat. All their saddles would need a careful check too, especially Crush’s… this was going to be a long few days. But Scarab and Sun-Sting needed rest, and he did too.

Astrid cornered him in the stable just after lunch, cold and stony even with Finna babbling in the sling on her back. There was something about the set of her jaw…

“I’m guessing Hiccup won't tell you the whole story?” he let a resigned sigh free.

“I know he’s leaving something out. _You_ start at the beginning.” she ordered.

“It started with the dreams. They can bleed over, and we were seeing Dreamer’s for days.” he dropped onto the overturned washtub, _“Nightmares_ Astrid, all of them. We saw and we _felt_ his memories, the pain and abuse. We wanted to help, so we invited Dreamer to al-Mariyah. We just… forgot to ask if Drago was dead. That's on me and Eret, don't even think of blaming Hiccup.”

Astrid pursed her lips, but gestured for him to continue.

“We made a plan, and practically forced Hiccup to stay back until the very end, when Drago was already drowning in his own blood. It was his right to deal the killing blow.” he shook his head slowly, “But he didn't. Eret finished the job, and Dreamer apologized to them. ‘To the ends of the sea, to the top of the sky’ he said…”

“And what else.” Astrid prodded, pulling a braid from Finna’s mouth.

“I... don't know what you want me to say. That was the end of Drago, and Dreamer keeps to the bay. Hiccup spent the rest of that day and most of the next just helping the dragons settle, then there was the wedding, and we stayed one day more.” he shrugged helplessly.

“But _why_ is he being so weird about Finna? He's never been this clingy!”

“Oh. I think that was spurred by something else... my nephews, I mean. That just had him thinking about the future, with Finna and any other children that may come. He’s scared, but excited too.” a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Oh, that's why he-” she stiffened, flushing bright red, “I'm gonna _kill_ him.”

Astrid turned on her heel and marched herself back home, muttering filthy curses she _had_ to have learned from Eret. Or Safiyah.

It took less time than he thought, all was ready by the end of the day and he dropped into bed, utterly spent. After a few minutes, he managed to dig through his pack for a shirt he’d filched from his husband, curling around it and pressing his nose into the fabric. It still smelled of him… Just a little longer.

This last day was just for relaxing. He spent a few hours lounging in the hot springs with the Light Furies, and _heavens_ he could fall asleep like this… Or so he thought, until Datura seized him by the ankle and dragged him halfway across the pool. That started an all-out war that raged until even Lil’ Crush was spent, and they all slogged out to dry on the cavern floor. They were going to love the sea…

With the dragons rallied and ready, bags packed, and supplies squared away, Hiccup called them all together for one last meeting. For the first time in a good long while, he looked rested, and strangely peaceful. A small mountain of blueprints lay in wait for them, of windmills and saddles and even false dragon legs. He hadn’t noticed any such injuries, but it couldn't hurt to have.

“So, you all know well enough what to do.” Hiccup said, “Show them the best of what life can be. And I won't ask for weekly reports or anything, but I would like the occasional update over the summer. We’ll keep a few Kites here, you take the rest back, and those’ll be our dedicated mail runners.”

“I’ll need more time for those wee packs, but I _did_ manage to make a few collars. Gotta tell ours apart after all.” Gobber chuckled, satisfied and eager.

“No, good idea! We could build off that, a mark for every route they know how to take.” Hiccup gave his head a shake, _“Anyway,_ let us know when you're on your way back too.”

“We will.” Cassian promised, “But… I had hoped to bring my family up to visit one day, and that got me thinking. With Berk on the world stage now, maybe we could use some sort of guest house? There's still some space around the side of the Great Hall.”

Hiccup considered, lips pursing, “Also a good idea. That's an easy project to keep everyone busy for the summer. And if you bring them up next year, give us a bit of warning first.”

“Of course. I'll fill you in with all the politicking, especially next spring. What _they_ plan to do I mean. With my uncle involved, we’ll have a better perspective.” his brows furrowed, “I won't even let them _entertain_ the thought of going to war, I swear it.”

Hiccup chuckled, shrugging easily. “Yeah, I know. I’m only worried about Gobber getting sunburned.”

“Will _not!”_ the smith huffed, settling into a full pout.

Father and Hiccup laughed, and Vega pretended to hide a smile.

They couldn't ride as long or hard with a flock this big, and feeding them all would be a delicate dance. He would just have to be patient. At least the company was lively, and Skullcrusher was eager to get back. Half the Flutterkite pack joined them, including the blue-black one, which had already volunteered to forge ahead on the last day. _Noctis_ he named it, and it would get an easy ride until then.

The trip was more like their first, carefully slow with long breaks and early stops for camp. Food was scarce over Normandy, but the flock feasted again at Montpellier. With two days left, he sent Noctis west with the sun. The dragon knew Eret already, and where to find him. It was just a matter of time.

Datura had a better sense of how far ‘an hour’ out was than he did, and shot ahead of the pack with a jubilant shout. That brought everyone’s spirits to new heights, put strength back in their wings, and so very, very soon, the bay was under them once more. Even this far out al-Mariyah’s flock filled the air, diving for fish or luxuriating in the wind and sun. Dreamer was nowhere to be seen, for now, but that was probably for the best. Skullcrusher was still none too pleased, even with Toothless’s assurances.

The Alcazaba beckoned from it's hill, and it hurt to turn away, towards home. He had to check with Safiyah first and see about getting Father and Gobber a place to rest. Couldn't just abandon them after all this. They landed in the street while Nightshade pulled the bulk of the flock towards the hill, and Vega had to follow for Simurgh’s sake. He could already hear the Stormcutters crowing-

“Cassy!” Safiyah barreled through the garden gate, glowing with the force of her smile.

“Saff- woah! _Tyrian!”_

The Nadder rushed to her before he even had a chance to dismount, nuzzling her cheeks with sweet little chirps of **affection.** Finally, a distraction. Grumbling, Cassian dropped out of the saddle and shook out his hair, stretching hard as Father and Gobber joined them.

“Agreed! What a slog…” the smith groused, “Alright lass, fill us in.”

“Tyrian, stop! Give me a minute!” she giggled, pushing the dragon away, “So, Jarra went home last week and took a Flutterkite with him. There's just not enough room for the Stormcutters to stay, but they sure _wanted_ to. We’ve got a plan though, they’ll send a Kite to fetch one if they want to visit-”

Safiyah paused, and stared.

“What’s all over your face? Is that-” she gasped and turned to shout back into the house, “Mama, Cassy has his first baby beard! It's so  _cute_ come see!” 

“Safiyah!” he squawked, cheeks flaming.

Father and Gobber understood that last bit enough to snicker, elbowing each other as his mother emerged, letting out a bright laugh.

“Oh, my baby boy is growing up!” she cooed, squeezing his cheeks between her palms.

_“Mother.”_ he groaned, “We’re trying to figure out what we’ve missed.”

“Everything’s fine.” Safiyah rolled her eyes, “Dreamer spends a long time out to sea getting food, if that's anything to worry about. And  _Eret’s_ been winning hearts all over with his dragon lessons. You should _hear_ the ladies coo over him playing with the kids.” 

She nudged him in the ribs, though he barely felt it with the way his heart fluttered like Gronckle wings.

“Oh, and rooms! Affan cleaned up another in the guest lodge, I'll show you the way. But for Vega… well, we thought she could stay _here,_ now that we have the space.” 

“I think we can let her decide on that. So, the Wraiths are here and they can help in the shop, all the rest can teach wild dragons how to live with us. And-” 

“Oh just _go,_ we can catch up later.” Mama scoffed, giving him a shove towards Tyiran.

“We’ll come over for dinner!” 

After a few quick hugs he scrambled back on Tyrian and they were off, streaking to the Alcazaba. Datura met them along the way, babbling **excitement** and more, too fast to follow. But she led them on, towards the second tier and nearly to the _third._ Khayran wasn't kidding about keeping an eye on them. They landed in the widest lane and chased the Fury's waving tail around one corner, then another, until they were at the last building, tucked well out of sight in a nice shady nook. The air was cool and fresh here, smelling of the sea, the gardens-

 **Here!** Datura barked, batting the door with her paw, **here, pack!,** and Tyrain added his voice to the mix for good measure.

“I'm _coming_ ‘Tura!”

Oh thank heaven. Cassian flopped to the ground, near boneless as the door finally opened and his husband emerged, still damp from a mid-day bath. He was ready, arms open, and they slotted together, tight as a sword in it's sheath. The wash of pure _relief_ left him weaker still, and he pressed his nose to Eret’s neck to breathe him in, warm skin and soap and _home._ All those knots of worry were gone in an instant, but fatigue settled in it's place. He was so tired…

“Yeah, I bet you are. C’mon, I haven't drained the tub yet. A quick wash, maybe a nap…” Eret sighed, guiding him through the door, “They did want to have another chat once you got back, the emir and his crew. No idea what for, I thought I was doing fine.”

“They can take as long as they like for that.” he grumbled, “Though, I did promise we’d be over for dinner, and we have to get our things...”

A curtain fluttered off to the side, drawing his eye to a small room. There looked to be a cot, and a chest, but it was far smaller than the bed they were heading for now.

“I sure hope they aren't expecting us to sleep separately.” he raised an incredulous brow.

“All that wasn't there yesterday, your guess is as good as mine. Thoughts for later, you're in need of a good soak.” Eret snickered, “No offense.”

“Oh don't worry, I know it.” he grimaced, pulling at his clothes.

He shed it all piece by piece as his husband steered him through another curtained doorway to the bathroom. It was small yes, but it was _theirs._ The windows were high and narrow for privacy, the floor neatly tiled, and a bath fit for two was sunk right into the center. A low table sat beside the rim, covered in soaps and oils and combs and Cassian _gladly_ eased into the water. It was blissfully cool, and he groaned as the weightlessness set in and eased the stress on his back, knees, hips…

 _“There_ we go.” Eret chuckled, settling behind him, “Just relax for a bit.”

He rumbled in agreement, leaning against Eret’s knee once he shifted closer. Strong hands kneaded into his neck, shoulders, arms… then up again, to trace where the tiny curls of hair grew along his jaw, and **admiration** rolled off his husband in waves. All of God's blessings, it was good to be back.

“I've been spending a lot of time with Uncle Isra.” Eret said eventually, smile clear in his voice, “He’s fun, but tough as _nails._ And, Naji too. He’s taken to all this like a duck to water, he barely breaks a sweat on our runs now. But, I think I figured it out.”

He hummed, urging Eret on.

“Once or twice I've compared you two, mentioned you had to work just as hard to get this far, and he goes red as a pomegranate every time. All shy and nervous like _Snotlout.”_ fingers scratched up his neck _yesthereperfect-_ “What if all that stuff with the laws, Khayran did that for him?”

Cassian jolted, eyes flying wide, “Five years ago it changed, after Khayran took over. Naji, he might’ve been 12, or 13? That's plenty of time to make some passing comment, ask an innocent question to leave a father wondering.”

“And what father worth his salt wouldn't upend the world to protect his son?” Eret finished, “Doesn't even have to be true, if _he_ could suspect, so could someone else. Either way, he saw to it that Naji would be safe and nipped the problem in the bud. He’s been watching the two of us when we’re out and about, I know he has. There's _something_ brewing.”

He slumped against the edge of the bath, breath leaving in a little puff. That _would_ explain it. The timing, the motivation, how quickly Khayran picked up on his meaning and that easy, unfazed… acceptance. And now the emir wanted to speak to them again.

Groaning long and low, he fumbled for a bar of soap and started to wash, scrubbing off a week of trail dust and sweat and dragon drool. Eret fetched him a towel and fresh clothes, and _sweet mercy_ the sheets were _silk._ He crawled into bed and didn't even have the steam to settle in properly, falling fast asleep with his legs dangling off the edge and his head inches from a pillow.

He woke perhaps within the hour, the light hadn’t changed at least, and it seemed either Eret or the flock had taken it upon themselves to get the moving done. Their armor was set up in a corner, chests lined the walls, and Eret kept himself occupied with the unpacking.

“‘M up.” he announced, scrubbing one eye.

“Yeah, I know.” Eret chuckled, “Didn't miss anything, and Datura got all out stuff over. Am I _really_ gonna need my cloak?”

“Maybe, just in case.” he grinned, waggling his brows when Eret looked.

“You're _impossible.”_ his husband rolled his eyes, but crossed the room to kiss him properly awake.

They couldn't get carried away, one kiss would have to suffice for now. Or, maybe two. Oh how he’d _missed_ this, how soft, how warm, how tender, how _easily_ they moved together, like a dance. And it seemed Eret discovered the magic of oil-balms, _heavens_ his lips were like silk… One more fleeting kiss, punctuated by an appreciative humm, and they both forced themselves up. No matter how tired he was, there was work to do.

“Got things working with Javan, there's a whole stockpile of leather and canvas so Dad and Gobber can start working. Oh, and we’ve got sandals! Don't know how Marwa got them sized perfect with just one look, but she did. Life-changing they've been, I never realized how much hotter boots make you. And someone snuck new clothes in with our laundry- they do it for us by the way. It's mostly smalls, cotton pants and shirts… but I think _these_ are nightclothes.”

Eret smirked, showing off a set of simple silk shirts and pants. His face burned, and his husband’s smirk only grew, so knowing and _teasing_. The bastard.

“Well it's nearing sundown dear goat, save your enthusiasm.” he grumbled, swatting Eret’s arm.

“Yeah, and dinner at Mom’s. Hopefully they'll get this meeting-”

Wait, _his arm._ Eret froze as he tugged the short sleeve up, and- oh thank God, the wound was healing. It was still a little crusty and pink where the scabs had come off, but it was clean and dry and... he would be fine. Eret's hand closed over his but before he could speak Datura hooted outside, **coming, strangers,** and they sighed, sharing a look.

“That's our cue. Your shoes are by the door, and- here, I'll get your hair real quick.”

“Yours wants a comb too, dearest limpet.”

They cobbled together a semblance of presentability by the time the knock came, though fatigue still weighed on Cassian’s limbs. He hadn't slept well, with all that travel and camping on the bare earth… hopefully this would be quick.

The messenger led them up the increasingly familiar path to the keep, quite content to have a little Flutterkite draped over his shoulders. How _quickly_ al-Mariyah had some around. That hope, all those possibilities set his heart fluttering enough to leave him breathless. Datura and Lil’ Crush tailed them by a few paces, drawn along by their insatiable curiosity but that only set his mind more at ease. They would be fine, this should only be a quick talk.

The garden courtyard was much more empty than he expected. The messenger waved them inside, where only the emir, Uncle Isra, and Naji waited at the far end around a low table. There was some sort of _static_ in the air, like a secret just waiting to burst and it crawled like ants over his skin.

 **Yeah, I feel it too,** Eret’s voice melded against him once more, **what in the world…**

**Can't be too bad if Naji’s here. Maybe just… expectations for our work?**

**Maybe,** Eret agreed, **let's look sharp anyway.**

There were three seats left open, and they sat with the emir’s amused permission. That _tension_ still lingered, circling like a shark as Isra offered them a drink.

“I trust your journey was without trouble?” the emir spoke first, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Only long and tiring, and we are glad to be home. All is ready to begin our work tomorrow, for saddles and more. Our master blacksmith was quite insistent on coming too, and another experienced with dragons as we are. Though, it seems Eret has accomplished a good deal already.” a smile tugged at his lips.

“Well, that is good to hear. But there is one task more for you. Given all I've seen, it shouldn't be much of a challenge.” Khayran returned a wry smile, “Proof of your convictions, and what you've claimed. It's a shame the council didn't see your speech, that alone could have done it. But they are men of practicality, and want to see results.”

He slowly lowered his cup, trying and failing to mask his confusion.

“I- I'm afraid I don't understand.” he snuck a glance and found Eret just as baffled, “What else are we to do with the dragons? We’re already teaching people to ride, planning a mail service…”

Surprise, then realization flickered through a single blink of the emir’s eyes.

“Oh. it seems I was a bit… _too_ subtle. Captain, why don't you bring him in.” 

Isra rose slowly, and left only after a sly wink. _What?_

 **Whaaat is going on,** Eret nudged his arm, **unease** flitting back and forth between them.

 **I know even less than you my love,** he swallowed hard, **but if Uncle is in on it…**

“I suppose it's no secret or surprise that Naji… he was a quiet boy. But ever since you brought dragons to al-Mariyah, he’s come into his own.” Khayran smiled, unguarded and honest and… thankful, “I do believe your assertions have merit.”

His heart pounded, so hard it left him dizzy. What... 

Footsteps from one of the halls, Isra was returning. He was guiding someone along, a boy, he couldn't be more than 13. _WHAT-_

“Of course-” Khayran continued, “You can't prove it's possible to raise a child, without a child to raise. Naji is a little too old to count in that regard.”

His pulse stuttered, breath abandoned him- 

His vision turned spotty, then black.

_“Cass!”_


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Eret **felt** it coming the split second before Cassian went limp, the ghost of mind-numbing vertigo that he had to shake off to catch his husband under the shoulders. Cass’s eyes fluttered, head lolled, but he wasn’t gone completely, not like all those other times.

 _“Cass.”_ he gave his husband a little shake, “Cass, c’mon-”

Another beat, then two, and Cass grunted, curling into his shoulder as his eyes screwed shut against the lingering spin in his head. Just a swoon, he was fine, another moment and he’d be fine-

Wait. Eret swallowed hard, mouth suddenly bone-dry. _The boy._

The kid stared openly, partly confused but mostly as disgruntled and ruffled as a half-fledged hawk. With all those freckles and red-gold hair, he _had_ to have northern blood. But, who was he? He- they were supposed to be his... guardians. Right. At that age, _he_ wouldn't've just let some new woman sweep in and call herself his mother, why should they expect anything different from this boy? At first. If they tried hard enough, maybe-

“Cassian, are you alright?” oh, yeah. Isra was still there. And Khayran, Naji-

“‘M fine.” Cass groaned, shaking his head again.

“My apologies, we should've waited for such an announcement.” a tiny frown pulled at Khayran’s mouth.

“No!” Cass blurted, scrambling upright, “No, this is- it was a shock, I-”

He was still reeling, so unsteady it nearly put Eret cross-eyed too.

 _“Easy_ luv, breathe properly or you’ll put yourself out again…” he rubbed between Cass’s shoulders.

When he turned back, Isra was back by the table and the boy looked like he’d seen a ghost, eyes wide as saucers- and green as the fields of Normandy.

“He won't tell anyone what his name is, the most his neighbors can say is he lost his mother recently, and his father years back.” Isra’s brows pinched tight, “And there’s dozens of others like him. But we have to start  _somewhere,_ and I don't doubt you can work wonders.” 

Datura and Lil’ Crush were suddenly there, behind them, peering shyly around their shoulders. Well, Crush was, Datura was quickly lured away by Naji’s mere presence. And the boy watched _,_ sharp as a falcon and somehow still so _like Cass_ his heart twisted twice over. Gods if they could spare even one child that sort of pain, he’d do anything-

“We are entrusting his care to you, in all respects.” the emir said softly, “You’ll have whatever you need, and the Alcazaba is yours… mostly. Within reason.”

“And I’m sure Nimat will be expecting you for dinner.” Isra offered a smile, “We’ve already had his things brought to your room.”

...oh. That explained the bed then. He cleared his throat a few times, trying to gather his wits.

“I- I don't know what to say, we-” he stammered, heart pounding.

“Your trust in us, there- there are no words for our gratitude.” Cass choked.

“It is late. I'm sure we can find a regular time to discuss your progress, on all fronts.” the emir said, with the thinly veiled permission to leave.

“Oh course, we aren't hard to find.” he winced immediately after. That was so stupid-

“Here, I'll walk you out.” Isra offered, bless him, then he turned to the boy, “Come, you’ll love Nimat’s cooking.”

Looking more resigned than anything else, the boy shuffled along on their uncle’s heels. But Lil’ Crush leaned out to intercept him, thrusting his whole head into the boy’s chest. He shrieked, stumbling back so fast he tripped and fell _no his head-_

Faster than thought, Eret threw an arm forward and the rest of him followed off the stool, crashing to one knee but _thank the gods_ he caught the kid under the shoulders with inches to spare. But the boy stared upwards, owlish in shock as Crush milled back and forth, mewling one **apology** after another. **Easy, easy** he urged the Fury back, he’s **scared,** give us time.

“Well, this is pretty familiar.” he managed a breathless laugh, sparing a coy glance at Cass, “Sorry bud, you okay? They can get a bit _too_ friendly.”

Wait, that wasn’t Andalusi, why would the kid speak anything else? But, he gawped anyway.

“My dad spoke that way, just with us.” the boy whispered, drawing his knees up to hide behind them, “He said he came from far away.”

“Yeah I'd imagine so if he was speaking Norse. I'm from up north too.” he eased back to give the kid some space, “Think you're up to trying again? Crush just got a little excited is all, I think he’ll behave himself now.”

Indeed, Lil’ Crush was prancing in place a measure away, pawing at the ground and **begging** to get closer. The boy watched for a moment, considering, weighing the risk, before looking uncertainly his way from under the fall of his hair.

“It's- it's okay to? Isn't he yours?” the boy asked.

“They don't belong to anybody, they're as good as family.” he shrugged, _damn_ how his heart raced, “And Crush is  _quite_ keen on you. There's no stopping a dragon when they like someone. Here, hold out a hand…” 

The boy trembled, but held out his left hand further, further, until Crush mashed his nose into the waiting palm. The Fury purred like thunder, auricles wiggling in delight and when his eyes opened again, his pupils were blown to black pits. Oh, how _smitten_ he was.

_“There_ we go. Not so bad, yeah? And there’ll be plenty more where they came from. Now let's get you out of the dust.” he offered a hand, and pulled the boy to his feet.

Space, let him have some space, right. He stepped back as the boy shook himself off- that hair _really_ wanted brushing, wow, and Cass tucked into his side, leaning hard and looking every bit like a man possessed.

 **Cass, what’s wrong?** he prodded.

 **It's- God, I can’t believe it, this is really** **_happening._ **

**Yeah… Just hold on for me, we’ll talk it out first chance we get.**

He pulled his husband along, gave Crush a shove by the haunches, and Datura- well, she was investigating the emir now, and the hand he offered to her. Well, how about that. 

Out of the garden and the further from the keep they got, the more the boy relaxed. He even welcomed Crush rolling under his hand as they walked. Eret took a deep breath, one foot in front of the other now. It took one hell of an effort to keep his head on straight, not let his thoughts race too far and wide. This was one day, the first of many, there'd be time to figure all this out. But they had to call the kid _something…_

“You sure you don't have a name?” he asked, trying to keep his tone light.

The boy ducked his head, mumbled something unintelligible…

“Ruadhán.” he said again, more clearly.

“Oh, like the tree.” he offered a smile, “A good name. No worries about titles here, I’m just Eret.”

Ruadhán turned to Cass next, squinting minutely like he wanted to ask, but wouldn’t.

“Cassian.” his husband said, and gods strike him, the _smile_ on his face…

***

Ruadhán was freshly 14 and so very, very confused. He’d just started planning another escape when that captain of the guard came to fetch him, and he was half convinced the man could _read minds_ with the way he seemed to show up at the exact wrong time. At least the captain wasn't ever mean about it, and he tried to strike up a conversation as they walked. He always did, but Ruadhán only half-heard what he said. Something about a new family? He didn't _want_ a new family though, he wanted to go back to his old home high on the hill. Even on the fringes of the city, even without… without _her,_ it would be better than the noisy, crowded, gross-

Wait, where were they going? The captain kept walking, past that hall to the kitchens, or the baths, and the breeze was picking up, cool and smelling like flowers. A garden? Yeah, a fancy garden all open to the sky, and there was a table there… was that the emir?! It _had_ to be, he’d seen the man once or twice, and there was a kid next to him, his son maybe? He looked it. There were _dragons_ too, those shiny-white ones wandering wherever they pleased and… two men? Those- those were _the dragon riders_ and they were looking right at him, shocked as beached fish-

And then the smaller one fainted. Just, went completely boneless and he would’ve fallen right on his head if the other hadn’t caught him. One of _them_ was gonna take care of him? Why? Why would a dragon rider want anything to do with some kid? All the Andalusi was too quick and too quiet to keep up with, until the tall one- _he_ spoke in his father’s tongue, his _mother’s._ He’d so nearly forgotten the sounds, the words, but it came back like a thunderclap. Then the captain nudged him along as the other rider pulled himself together, looking half-wild from the shock, like a man come back from drowning. What in the world was going on-

Oh, the captain was talking. Yeah, no one knew his name cuz they couldn't _say_ it right, and he _told_ the people that took him away what happened. It's not his fault they didn't care. But he said nothing, looking at anything but the gawping riders at least… until the dragons moved. They _watched_ him for a beat, though the pinkish one got distracted by the emir’s boy, leaving the other. It was gold in parts, then green and even red as it shifted and twitched and breathed, it was _right there._ He hadn’t been this close to a dragon yet, they’d kept everyone cooped inside ‘for their own good’. The babies were scared, but _he_ wasn’t, especially not of a dragon this frilly. It didn't have horns, or big gnarly teeth or spines or lumps or armor. It wasn't scary, and he _wasn't_ scared-

Wait, they were leaving? Good riddance to this stuffy palace and all it's rules. He started shuffling as the captain waved for him to follow, but the dragon _moved._ It darted right out in front of him, _lunged for his throat._ A scream tore out of his mouth as he threw himself backwards, _away_ from the monster but he stumbled, fell-

But an impact never came. At least, not to his head. Something moved as he stared at the square of sky above, so, so dizzy and boneless from the shock and- someone was talking.

“-are you okay? They can get a bit _too_ friendly…” the tall rider said, in that foreign tongue.

He could still understand it, the memory _wasn't gone!_

“My dad spoke that way, just with us.” he muttered, scooting back and sitting properly, “He said he came from far away.”

Wait, why was he telling them this? Whatever, it was better to let them think he only spoke Andalusi. If they were plotting something, he needed to know. What that _could_ be… he didn't want to think about. Better to hope they got bored and wouldn't care if he ran off.

“Yeah, I’d imagine so if he was speaking Norse. I'm from up north too.” the rider continued, leaning away then- “Think you're up to trying again? Crush just got a little excited is all, I think he’ll behave himself now.”

Wh- _petting the dragon?_ He swallowed hard, still staring hard at the beast. It pranced like an eager dog just out of reach, inching closer and retreating like it was remembering to be polite, all wiggly and shivery. Did it… want to play? To lick him? If the riders were this relaxed, it couldn't be _bad,_ right? But-

“It's- it's okay to? Isn't he yours?” he dared to ask.

“They don't belong to anybody, they're as good as family.” the man shrugged, his smile was easy and lopsided, “And Crush is  _quite_ keen on you. There's no stopping a dragon then they like someone. Here, hold out a hand…” 

He shook a little, so he clenched his fist a few times to work out the nerves. Slowly, he extended that hand and the dragon rushed to meet him. It's nose was… dry, even though it looked like a cat’s, but it wrinkled and twitched just the same as hot breath rushed between his fingers. And it purred like a cat too, so deep he could feel it in his bones, all the way up his arm. Then it opened it's- _his_ eyes. They were blue and a little gold, the pupils were _huge_ and so round. He couldn't look away, he couldn't even remember how to _breathe._ This was-

_“There_ we go. Not so bad, yeah? And there’ll be plenty more where they came from. Now, let's get you out of the dust.” the rider stood, offered a hand…

And, he took it, rising slowly as the dragon sprang back. After a quick ruffle and a shake that the dragon- _Crush,_ copied he skipped a few steps to catch up. But the other rider, the Andalusi one, walked right up to the tall one and… leaned up on him and they put their arms around each other all lovey-dovey like. 

What? The _two_ of them, together? How could that even work? It's not like two men could-

...oh. He stopped in his tracks and Crush tried to circle back for him, but the tall rider gave the dragon a few pushes to keep moving. _Oh,_ he thought, this would be the only way they could call a kid ‘theirs’, wouldn't it? Well, that didn't matter. He didn't _want_ new parents, even if they had… dragons. Lots of dragons. It was like Crush sensed his thoughts and escaped again, sidling next to him and ramming under his arm to walk easily at his side. Might as well take a little advantage, see what all this felt like. The dragon’s scales were perfectly smooth but soft like fingernails, going tiny as grains of sand on the frilly parts and the color really did shift and shimmer all over. Were they all different colors? He couldn't really remember, not from seeing them so far away…

The further they got from that garden, the better he felt. It was like being watched all the time up there, it made his skin crawl no matter where he was. And there was _way_ too much perfume, that was barely a step up from the orphanage. But, where were they going? The captain mentioned ‘Nimat’, who was that? The tall rider spoke, and he started back to attention.

“You sure you don't have a name?” the guy was _teasing_ him?

He grumbled to himself. _They_ probably wouldn't be able to say it right either. But the tall rider looked so… hopeful, when he snuck a peek.

“Ruadhán.” he said, turning away.

“Oh, like the tree.”  _wh- he knew it?!_ “A good name. No worries about titles here, I'm just Eret.” 

That _was_ a northern name, it rang familiar somehow. Maybe Dad mentioned it once, or something like it, in the times he was home. He always had the best stories… wait, the other rider.

“Cassian.” the man said when he looked.

Not an Andalusi name, or Roman or mysterious-northern, or anything else he’d ever heard. But Cassian was grinning, he nearly looked _drunk_ the way he wobbled downhill. What was he so worked up about? Something else to watch out for, along with all the new dragons sailing overhead. They came in every shape and size, but very few actually crossed the Alcazaba walls and they were almost out _yes!_

The men didn't say much else as they finally walked through the gate and started across the city, mostly speaking between themselves or to the people they passed. Every so often Eret or Cassian snuck a peek back and he pretended not to notice as he fiddled with Crush’s funny ear-flap things. He seemed to like getting scratched back there, it made his face all scrunchy and his tail wiggled. But, were they _there_ yet? He was starving, and nobody here cooked right, not like his-

He crushed that thought under his heel on the next step. He _wouldn't_ cry, not in front of all these people. Crush chirped, craning up to nuzzle under his chin and- ew, _ew!_

“No _licking!”_ he squawked, furiously wiping his face and neck.

Eret laughed first and the rest followed, maybe not as mean as they could've been but he glowered anyway and Crush tried to come back for more. But the dragon froze with his tongue half-out, looking to Eret and wilting at his scolding look, and then he just returned to their easy pace. What… just happened? It was like he gave some silent command, bossed a whole dragon around with just a look. Yeah, he was definitely keeping his eyes peeled for any funny business, who _knew_ what these dragons and their riders could do.

Ruadhán was on the verge of asking if they were almost there when they stopped at a house. Not just a house, there was some sort of workshop on the side with tall smoking chimneys, and dragons were _everywhere._ More of the shiny-white ones, three that were kinda similar with the extra fins, one tall and skinny and covered in spikes, a whole pack that looked half-scorpion, some with four wings and two- _those_ were huge, armored and shining like beetles. Were these all _theirs?_

“We’ll introduce you later, or… maybe tomorrow. That could take hours.” Eret snorted.

“And Mama will kill us if we keep her waiting.” Cassian added.

This was _his_ house? Or, his family’s, those two were staying in the Alcazaba apparently. Which meant he was too, and the prospect of walking all the way back doubled the ache in his knees. But they were moving again, Cassian walked right in, the captain followed, and Eret waved for him to do the same. There wouldn't be any fitting Crush in _there…_

“Sorry, I guess you'll have to stay.” he gave the dragon an awkward pat.

Crush sighed, flopping to the ground beside the gate to watch forlornly as he shuffled after Eret. The garden inside the walls was small, just a few flowers and a tree but… it was nice, and he could smell something cooking. Spices, meat… he could deal with that. There were more people inside once they filed in, though he had to peer around Eret’s too-big shoulders to see anything. Cassian was in the kitchen, talking to a few women and two looked so similar they had to be family. Was one of them Nimat? The third, maybe she was an aunt? And there were some younger kids too, but the older lady was speaking.

“The gentlemen will be back shortly, Zayd was helping. Will you be staying Isra? We made _tuna.”_ maybe-Nimat said, teasing towards the end. So, the captain was Isra?

“I’d love to my dear, but Dalal will have my head if I keep doubling up on dinner.” Isra chuckled, “And don't  _you_ laugh at me boy, you've been stopping by on dessert nights sure as the tide.” 

“You have _not!”_ Cassian turned to scold Eret.

“What? Auntie’s honey-dumplings are even better than the ones at the market!” 

Wait. Isra was their _uncle?_ But, now the captain was clearing his throat.

“There has been a bit of a development today, and through our own faults we caught your sons by surprise.” Isra said.

Nimat’s eyes narrowed in confusion and Cassian leaned close to whisper in her ear. Then her face fell in shock and she nearly dropped the pitcher in her hands.

_“What?”_ she gasped, “Isra, you did  _what?!”_

“We’re trying out Cassian’s proposal, and I dare say they'll do just fine.” the captain said.

Eret tapped his shoulder, just a little touch to nudge him forward and… into view. The room went quiet and he fidgeted under so many eyes. Why were they all _staring?_ Especially Nimat, she looked fit to cry, like she wanted to rush over and hug him. Cassian stopped her though, and Ruadhán was thankful for it.

“We’re taking things slow.” Eret said, close and quiet but he heard anyway, “Real slow.”

Nimat nodded once, taking a shaky breath before turning back to the kitchen. Those kids were watching from around their mother’s skirts, they must be cousins and two… they were _twins._ He’d never seen real twins before.

“So that's- our sister, Daniyah.” Eret said, with a pause like he was correcting himself, “And her kids Ali, Basira, and Feryal.”

Daniyah smiled warmly, but had to give the kids a tap to wave hello. He… waved back.

“I have a few brothers, but only Zayd will be joining us tonight. And, this is my sister Safiyah.” Cassian continued, pointing out the last woman.

She waved too, and her smile was _blinding._ No kidding she was Cassian’s sister, with how much they looked like each other and their mother. But, no father..?

“I'll leave it to you then.” Isra smacked Eret on the shoulder, “See you tomorrow boys, there’s lessons in the morning!”

“Yeah, I know Uncle. We’re turning in early tonight, don't you worry.” Eret waved him off, “Here, take a seat. We’ll get this finished in two shakes.”

He nodded and took a spot on the bench in the corner, bowing his head to watch through the fall of his hair. This family bustled around, tending pots and checking the oven, laying out bowls, plates, utensils, and they chattered back and forth all the while.

“Pass the salt dear.” 

“Girls, go wash your hands please, Ali, set the table properly-” 

“Mom, which platter?” 

“The painted one, and that basket too. Fetch the bread.” 

They moved easily in and around each other, filling the table with food and the atmosphere was… warm. Energetic, but friendly. They all snuck peeks his way, but never forced him to talk, and they gave him space even as they filled the seats around him. Food was offered and he took what looked alright, fish and lentils and bread… okay, the stewed berries too. And, it was good. Not like _home,_ but... good. Another man joined them soon enough, that had to be Zayd, right? He didn't quite look like Cassian, with a softer face, a sharper nose, and his hair was cropped short to little whorls. Oh, and he had a bigger beard, but not by much.

“The gentlemen of Berk will be sitting this meal out, Affan’s got it-” the man paused, noticing him.

“We’ll tell you later Zee. Come, sit.” Cassian dragged the man in by the collar.

Zayd- Zee? did, though he still glanced over until Daniyah leaned in to whisper away. After a beat his eyes went wide and he looked to Cassian in shock. Why was this such a big surprise to everyone? What happened before those guards came looking and picked him on a whim? It's not like they could've had a kid before and lost it.

Right? If he asked, they would probably answer. Those two looked absolutely over the moon; Cassian shook and was trying to hide it, and Eret couldn't stop smiling. This crackle of _excitement_ laced the air, he could just watch it pass through the room. They… were quite the family. But, he would watch and wait, he had to be _sure_ they were genuine. After that… after… then what? Stick it out until he was old enough to leave? Their old home would probably have someone else in it, if it didn't already. Go somewhere else? Maybe he could find the lands his mother and father came from…

It felt like the sun vanished between one blink and the next, and Eret and Cassian were rising from their seats, bidding goodnights and hugging their family. Great, now they had to _walk_ back. He scrambled after them from his spot in the corner but, he should say _something._ Mom raised him better than that.

“Uh, thank you.” he said, flinching as his voice cracked, “Dinner was nice.”

Nimat smiled, in that way that was almost sad, “You're very welcome dear. Sleep well.”

The rest said polite farewells, and they left. It was shockingly quiet outside, and he wasn't sure he liked the change after all that happy chatter.

“Crush, come on! It's not _that_ late!” Eret scolded at a dragon he couldn't see.

Another, the tall spiney one, was already waiting in the street, nuzzling Cassian’s hair as he fiddled with it's saddle. Were they going to _fly?_ Could they even carry two? Sure he wasn't very big, but what if? And, if only he could _see,_ it was proper dark now. It looked like more dragons emerged from behind the house, almost all the ones he’d seen, but the very biggest one rushed to Eret so fast it nearly knocked the man flat. A gasp tore out, he couldn't help it the thing was so _big-_ and dozens of eyes trained on him in an instant. All the dragon noises stopped.

“It's alright, the old beetle just missed me!” Eret said, so calmly…

That Ruadhán found himself relaxing too, and he inched closer to the gate, through and out into the street. The dragons watched, eerily silent, only their breath stirring the air. You just… held out a hand right? Eret and Cassian watched too, but tried to pretend they weren't as he took another step…

Extended his arm…

The big armored dragon sniffed and snuffed, moving right past his hand to press it's nose into his chest. He froze, skin prickling with goose-pimples all over. It's teeth were _huge,_ big as knives, but never so much as snagged his shirt as the dragon shifted, took one last long breath and then _purred_. It purred like waves on rocks, like thunder, and it's armor shook so hard as his own teeth rattled. Then a new hot breath washed over his back, blasting through his curls as another snout rolled into his free right hand. Slowly, slowly, he turned. The spiny dragon snuffled at his hair again, and one of the scorpion-ones looked up from under his palm… almost in _awe._

“What’re they doing?” he asked, loud as he dared.

“Just saying hello.” Eret said, though there was something like an understatement in how eager he was, “Crush’ll give us a lift back, if that's alright with you.”

“Wait. This one’s ‘Crush’ too?” he squinted.

“He’s _Skullcrusher.”_ Eret chuckled, “I can't take credit for that, sorry to say. The Light Fury version is  _Lil’_ Crush, since their colors match.” 

“Oh. That's weird.” he shook out his hair, dragon-breath was so _smoky,_ “So, who’re these two?” 

“The tall one is Tyrian.” Cassian answered, “He was the second dragon I really met, on Berk at least, and we’ve been partners ever since. And  _this_ is Foxglove. Strange as it may seem, she’s like a child to us. That is a long story, for another time.” 

Raising a dragon, like a kid? It- _she_ couldn't be more than a few years old then, if they found her that young. Yeah, that made some sense, and… that meant she was like _him._ But he yawned, and those thoughts had to wait for later. Sleep today, figure out dragons tomorrow.

“Crush… _can_ carry two, right?” he slowly pet the dragon’s nose.

“Yeah, it's no problem for _him._ I'll give you a boost, and scoot to the back.” Eret offered a hand.

He hesitated, just for a second, mostly because Foxglove was right there and he had to wiggle around her to get to the rider and dragon. And Skullcrusher… was _really_ tall. Even taller than Eret, and Tyrian was the same. How did they manage? As if hearing the question, Skullcrusher laid himself down, though that made little difference.

“Alright, put your hands on his neck to keep your balance, step in with your _left_ foot, and throw your right leg over the seat at the top.” Eret instructed.

Wait, what? He was already half-leaning on the dragon when Eret crouched down at his side, lacing his fingers together like a step- oh. ‘Step in’, for a boost. That made sense. Gingerly, he planted his foot in the man’s palms and ever-so-slowly Eret _lifted,_ higher and higher and he slid up the dragon’s armor, then flailed for a handhold when he ran out of neck. There, a handle! He gripped it tight, nearly toppling over the seat before he remembered to get his leg over, and even then he had to scramble and scoot to find his balance. To the back, right, Eret needed room too.

“Not bad! Rumblehorns aren't for the faint of heart.” Eret said, grinning wide.

Skullcrusher snorted, arching his neck with something like pride as his rider climbed up so easily, settling where the leather was already molded to his shape. What was he supposed to-

“You can just grab my shirt, you'll need to hold on to something.” Eret said over his shoulder, “Crush takes off fast, and he's  _damn_ strong-” 

“Language!” Cassian scolded, pulling up on their left atop Tyrian.

“Wh- really? C’mon, that's not even a curse!” Eret protested.

“A discussion for later, let's get home.” Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Yeah yeah, we’re coming. Got a good grip?” Eret asked again.

Haltingly, he grabbed a fistfull of the man’s shirt, fixing his posture a bit more to match. Back straight, legs curled to grip the edge of the seat since he couldn't reach much else…

“Yeah.” he muttered.

“Alright. Here we go.” 

Tyrian took off first with a quick running start down the street, while Skullcrusher’s wings rose like walls around them, taller than the _houses_ even. Then the dragon surged, galloping the same way as his wings pounded hard, too fast this was _too fast-_

He threw an arm around Eret’s middle, clinging with all his strength even when a huge hand gripped his elbow, pinning him in place. Faster, _faster_ they went, until the bucking strides stopped and the wind whipped around them from all sides. He didn't dare open his eyes until that giant hand patted his arm, and Skullcrusher thrummed.

One eye cracked open, then the other.

Houses were no bigger than his palm under them and still shrinking, and the bay opened up past Skullcrusher’s left wing, just barely glinting in starlight. There were so _many_ stars-

And just as quickly, it was over. Skullcrusher dove in little swoops that left his stomach miles behind them, then circled lower and lower over the Alcazaba, coasting in and landing so hard his teeth rattled.

“There, fun’s over.” Eret announced, “We’re just around the corner there. Let's get you down…”

Ruadhán doubted he could even stand after all that, but Cassian was suddenly _there_ at Skullcrusher’s side, offering a hand. Well, he couldn't jump down, could he?

Their ‘home’ wasn't really… homey. It was full of _things_ yeah, but they were just other-people’s things, he could tell. Sure they only just moved in themselves, but there weren't any cooking-smells settled in the drapes, or stains on the table or rugs, there weren't even any books on the shelves. His own little room was the same when he slunk inside, after a brief goodnight to the riders. There wasn't a reason to be rude, not yet. The new furniture, sheets, pillows, clothes… it wasn't _his._ But, he could make it his. Maybe. He still had some of his belongings in that little chest, old clothes, toys, and… oh thank the spirits, _her cloak-pin._ Finding it there with all the other scraps of home soothed something in him, just enough to wind down for the day. He washed his hands and face in the basin in the corner, tucked into bed, blew out the little oil lamp… and the voices drifted in, in _Norse._ So, he listened.

“Merciful God, I can't believe-” that was Cassian, sounding giddy at first then choking, like a sob.

“I know Cass, it's- this is actually _happening.”_ Eret, with that trying-not-to-cry strain.

...they _did_ want this then, they just didn't know about the plan, know it would be _him._ Still, they thought they were alone. If they were hiding anything, this is where he would catch it. 

“But he’s like _me_ Cass, gods it's like looking inna mirror.” a pause, and a sniffle, “We can't smother him, he’ll be hurt and won't want coddling. Offer a hand, let him come to us, start with the easy things… We’ve got training with the guards first thing, but I'm doing lessons for the kids after. You two sleep in, then invite him to that. And we can check on Dad and Gobber after, start saddle stuff…”

How was Eret like him? And how- how did he _know_ all that? It's like the man read his mind, saw what he was thinking in an instant. And… they were already planning around how he felt, because they knew, or at least understood-

“Fox and Crush adore him already, do you think he’d-”

“Let's just give ‘im time Cass. We’ve got a whole year. After that… it's his call.”

He was too tired to think harder on that, all he heard after was laughter, broken by wet, hitching sniffles.

***

Cassian slept hard, buoyed to sleep by a soft bed, plush pillows, silk sheets, and the warm, anchoring weight of his husband’s arms over his waist. Even the giddy rush of a dream come true couldn't hold back three weeks of fatigue. It was so _good_ to be back, right where he belonged with his dreams roaming free, flying and swimming and seeing their lives through new eyes…

It was Datura that woke him, the little minx, and he was unfortunately alone. Judging by the light it was still early morning, perhaps an hour or two after dawn? But he didn't want to move, even as his stomach rumbled, and he eventually weighed the benefits of crawling out for breakfast. Maybe Eret left something out… and Ramadan would be starting in a matter of days. That would need accounting for in their schedule, and while Eret may not be expected to observe, _he_ would. Old habits would need a dusting off, but for now he was hungry and he would eat as he pleased. He dressed lightly, and set aside his heavy boots for proper sandals of the softest leather, but only after he crawled out from under Datura. From there it would be a matter of waking up Ruadhán. What to do…

 **Kin?** Datura thrilled, auricles flaring wide, **kin! Going, getting!**

“Wh- Datura, no!” but he was too late.

The Fury crawled out under the drapes faster than he could stop her, and by the time he rounded the bed and burst into the open room, she was in Ruadhán’s doorway.

And the boy was laughing.

“St- _op!_ That tickles!” Ruadhán squawked, “You're  _heavy!”_

“Datura, _behave.”_ he scolded, swatting her tail, “You don't like us waking  _you_ up.” 

The laughter stopped, and the Fury’s tail zipped away under the curtain to the safety of the room beyond. A beat later, Datura’s head emerged from the folds and she stuck her tongue out in defiance, eyes narrowing.

“I was already awake…” Ruadhán’s voice came, guarded and quiet.

“Oh. Still, I'm sorry she both-” he paused, “How did you get  _in_ here?” 

**There,** Datura looked to a whole span of wall beside the entryway, covered only by thin curtains and wooden standing screens, and a few of those had been pushed askew.

“Really? You couldn't wait a few minutes more?” he rolled his eyes, “Don't go giving Skullcrusher any ideas, you’re lucky  _you_ fit in here.” 

Datura’s protesting grumble stuttered into a startled chirp and the curtains around her neck shifted, parting an inch for one wide, green eye to peer out.

“How are you _doing_ that?” Ruadhán asked.

“Talking to her? It's rather the same as talking to anyone, most dragons are as smart as you or I. Datura included.” he scratched the dragon’s chin, “Andalusi, Norse, it doesn't seem to matter. They understand in their own way, and they can speak in turn, if you know how to listen.”

Ruadhán stared long and hard, considering, even as Datura tried to wiggle out from under him.

“We need to get the day started I'm afraid, I was about to figure out breakfast. After that, how would you like your first flying lesson?” he offered, trying to keep his voice even.

“It would kinda be my second…” Ruadhán said, looking away.

He snorted, dissolving into muffled laughter. Oh, he had spark for sure!

“I suppose you're right!” he finally said, “But you'd be flying on your own, on something a good bit smaller. We’ll bring my nephew and nieces too.”

Leaving the invitation open, he wandered to the table where something was covered with a cloth. A platter, with bread and soft cheese, a pot of honey, dried dates and figs… that husband of his. He settled on a cushion and tore off a measure of bread, spreading on a few thin slabs of cheese and drizzling it all in honey. There wasn't much for a kitchen here, not even a hearth, but Eret had turned a few shelves into a makeshift larder, with plates and jars, cups and bottles of wine. Of _course_ he would.

Ruadhán emerged after a moment, combing fingers through his wild curls and stifling a yawn, with Datura following like a shadow. He sat on the opposite side of the table, helped himself to breakfast, and watched in little stolen glances. Datura contented herself curling around the whole room, finally resting her head in Ruadhán’s lap to beg for morsels.

“You mind your manners little miss.” he scolded, “You  _know_ you aren't supposed to beg.” 

The Light Fury grumbled, swatting him upside the head with her tail.

And Ruadhán _laughed_ , giggling over a mouthful of bread and Cassian forgot all about the dragon that was still smacking him about the shoulders. In mere seconds all the fatigue and wariness was gone from the boy’s face and he _shone_ with a smile that set his eyes sparkling. The heady rush of pure affection nearly knocked Cassian flat, and he had to turn away to steel himself, get stead again. They couldn't overwhelm Ruadhán with anything, even love and compassion. As much as it hurt, they had to be a safe harbor first and foremost, letting Ruadhán come to them. If it was meant to be, a bond would surely come in time.

He hoped at least, with all his heart.

It didn't last long. The laughter died down and Ruadhán returned to studying the room, though there wasn't much to see. Just rugs and chests, and… oh, he spotted it. 

“What’s _that.”_ Ruadhán gasped, eyes going wide.

“Our armor? That's only for emergencies, I don't imagine we’ll need it.” he shrugged, “It's made of leather and dragon scales, so it's fireproof, and there are wings built in.”

Ruadhán’s hand flinched on Datura’s neck, “Their scales?”

“Don't worry, they shed. Like a bird’s feathers.” he added quickly, “We make other clothes with them too, our vests and some shirts, Eret’s cloak there… Once we build some grooming stations, we can start collecting. There are so many  _beautiful_ dragons here, I'm sure I'll have quite the wardrobe in a few months.” 

“Oh…” Ruadhán relaxed, shoulders dropping, “Wait,  _wings?”_

Better to show him. With a sly smile, he set his bread down and crossed the room, turning the stand with his breastplate about and carefully, he opened one wing. The frame creaked before locking into place and… hmm, the paint could use a touch-up, but the leather was fine.

“They're only good for gliding, and you need a dragon to take you up and catch you after. It takes a _lot_ of practice. I, ah… almost flew into a mountain on my first try.” he chuckled, face warming, “It's well worth the effort.”

“But- who were you fighting?” ah, clever lad.

His smile fell, memories still sour, “Dragon trappers, the remnants of the army gathered by the man that attacked last month. I will not lie to you Ruadhán, we’ve fought and we’ve killed to defend our home, and we’ll do the same here if we have to. We fight so that one day, children and grandchildren, nieces and nephews... won't.”

Turning away, he fixed the armor and put it back in it's proper place, adjusted the helm…

“So… that big dragon was his? The bad man’s.” Ruadhán asked quietly.

“Yes. Drago hurt him, for a very long time, starting when he was too small to defend himself so that he learned to not fight back. To _obey,_ even when he grew to the size of a mountain. So we saved him, and Drago paid for his crimes. Now Dreamer can live in peace and dragons are flying free again, and the _wonder_ I've seen ever since…” he looked to Ruadhán, smiling weakly, “I’d do anything to protect that.”

The boy slowly averted his eyes, nibbling at his breakfast and Cassian returned to finish his. It was time to get going, Eret would hopefully be finishing up and they could continue with the day.

“Alright, out with you Datura. Shoo. _Yes_ you can come with us but you won't fit through the door, you _know_ this!” he huffed, “Frankly, the door is a little redundant. Ruadhán, do you have your san- ah, good. Well, let's get going.”

He reset the screens once Datura slunk out, and Ruadhán followed quietly. The whole Light Fury pack had made themselves at home in their courtyard, Tyrian too, and Lantana roused at her daughter’s insistence. **Kin, left,** Tana yawned, flicking the memories of Skullcrusher, Nightshade, Foxglove and Eret by.

“I figured as much, thank you dearest. You just relax for the day, _all_ of you have earned it.” he stopped to give Lantana a scratch.

Lil’ Crush yipped, bounding over the pile of his siblings and then his father. **Coming,** he insisted, curling around Ruadhán’s back and under his arms, **kin, new-kin!**

“Fine, you can come. But _behave.”_ he said firmly. Lil’ Crush sneezed at him.

And Ruadhán stared strangely, “You didn't say anything first that time.”

 _Very_ clever lad.

“To Lantana? Well…” he turned, starting a slow walk out, “Dragons can speak a little more clearly to some than others. Eret and I, we don't need words to communicate. I haven't the first clue how it happened, or how it even works, but the bond we have… we wouldn't trade it for the world. With our dragons, with Dreamer, it's changed  _everything.”_

“That sounds made up.” Ruadhán scoffed, then immediately blanched, “I mean, I-”

“No, no it does.” he agreed quickly, “I hardly believed it myself at first. Of course, nearly fainting half a dozen times in the week after because I acted a fool made the reality quite clear. But I  _can_ prove it.” 

Ruadhán raised a skeptical brow, but his eyes shone with barely-concealed curiosity. With a few long strides Cassian pulled ahead, walking in front.

“Hold up a few fingers behind your back, and Crush can show me.” he said over a shoulder.

 **Look?** Crush chirped, and he **affirmed,** look at his **hands.** Ruadhán did as he asked, but… ah, clever again, holding up a closed fist first.

“No fingers yet.” he announced, then- “Now four, two, one-  _Ruadhán!”_

He gasped, whipping around to stare in horror, “Who  _taught_ you that?” 

“...you weren't lying.” Ruadhán blinked owlishly as Crush sniffed his clothes.

_“And_ you stuck some dates in your pockets.” he smirked when the boy flushed with guilt, “Just finish them before we get to the beach, or they’ll melt in the heat.  _Trust_ me.” 

There was still a ways to go and Tyrian finally caught up, but he could feel more questions coming.

“What’s that like?” Ruadhán finally asked, walking in the Nadder’s shadow.

“It's… hard to describe. Words without words, pure feelings and ideas, even images, whole _memories._ And sometimes, dreams. Their voices are all unique, though some are more… eloquent than others. I love Tyrian dearly, make no mistake, but he's a simple soul.” he chuckled, “Furies are so nearly human though, and Crush loved you in an instant, as did Fox.”

Lil’ Crush yipped, prancing eagerly at Ruadhán’s side and nearly bowling him over.

“Does that- can I _ride_ him?” he asked, shocked and breathless.

“In time. Furies are strong, and the fastest of fliers. You'll need a proper saddle first, and practice to build up your strength. I had to do the same thing, so that's no slight. It's our job to think of everyone’s safety, even if slow progress is frustrating.” he did offer a smile, “Lil’ Crush  _is_ far easier to climb than his namesake at least.” 

“Yeah… He _was_ big.” Ruadhán mumbled.

They were almost there, just through the second gate. He could already hear the flutter of Gronckle-wings, and the clash of practice swords. Hmm, it had been a good long while since they had a proper spar, couldn't hurt to show off a little. He moved more quickly now, following the path to the training yard and _there_ was his husband, in the thick of the hovering dragons, directing guardsmen as they passed. _Ever the captain._

“Started the fun without me?” he called, chuckling when Eret spun on his heel.

“You were sleeping like the dead! What would you have me do?” his husband sighed in mock offense.

“I'll have to get used to early starts again. At least there’s no midnight sun or Long Night to worry about here, so that’s some blessing to our precious sleep.” he rolled his eyes fondly.

“Sounds like a nice change of pace. But, Affan mentioned that fasting day was coming up soon?” Eret wove through the crowd to stand closer.

“Yes, in about a week. I’ll explain all that later.” he waved a dismissive hand, “So, how goes all this? They look quite capable.”

“Yeah, we’re getting there. They catch on quicker than the kids at least-” Eret stopped short, honing in on a beige-blue Gronckle,  _“Balance_ Javan, keep your back straight!” 

“They’re getting there.” he snickered, “Ah, but is practice almost done? How have you been gathering the other class?”

“Lantana would send up a signal when we’re ready, but I think Crush can do the honors today. And we’re almost done, this’s the last lap.” a warm smile tugged at Eret’s mouth, “After, when we meet up with Dad, I wanted to bring Naji along and see if we can't get a saddle started. Shouldn't surprise you, but that gold dragon chose him, he named it Caduceus. Something to do with healing? I dunno, but he’s a _natural_ Cass.”

 **Just like you,** his husband added a little more privately, before **showing** him: the two of them flying for the first time, Naji’s arms spread wide to hold the sky… and the savage pang of **affection** bled clean through, pricking tears in his eyes.

“Oh, sorry…” Eret murmured, brushing a thumb across his cheekbone.

“It's fine, I’m fine.” with Tyrian in the way, he turned to kiss Eret’s palm _,_ “Now, shall we move this rabble along? We’ll use the same Gronckles, yes?”

“Yeah, to all of the above. Wrap it up lads, we’ll pick up again tomorrow! Our saddlemakers are here so see about making a new friend- Javan, _again?”_

The young guard somehow managed to lose his grip aboard the now-stationary dragon and pitched sideways, landing in a crumpled heap on the ground. Oh dear… Well, not _everyone_ could be a dragon rider. He moved first to help the man up, hauling him easily to his feet. There was certainly no mixing him up with Ghadir’s father, by the looks of it he was a touch Roman; olive skin and loose-curled brown hair. He seemed familiar too, but so did hundreds of other people. Maybe from a class at the mosque, or from a stall at the market?

“Ah, thank you. Still can't manage all this I'm afraid…” Javan mumbled, scuffing his sandals.

“You'll get the hang of it eventually.” he shrugged, “And it's easier with a real saddle.”

“I'll have to take your word for it. But, duty calls.” Javan waved awkwardly, and followed after the others.

“Another familiar face huh?” Eret said after a beat, “We don't have the best record with those.”

Eret’s grin was teasing when he looked, so he swatted his husband’s arm.

“Okay, okay.” hands flew up in surrender, “To the beach with you lot! Rest up while we get everyone, you know how this goes.”

The Gronckle flock grumbled, but fluttered away lazily. Though… the beige-blue one lingered for a few moments, watching the guards move on.

“On we go, let's rally the troops…” Eret groaned, stretching out his back.

They walked close, nearly arm-in-arm with Crush, Ruadhán, and the rest of the dragons ambling behind them. It was exhilarating, to be so _free_ to do this now. Sure they should abide by the same rules of decorum as anyone else, but there was so oppressive need for secrecy. And they were public figures now, they could set the example for others to follow on top of commanding enough respect to maybe, just maybe, make people reconsider what they thought they knew.

Lil’ Crush gladly sent up the signal of rainbow fire, but Cassian only cared to watch the blinding awe spread over Ruadhán’s face. Yes, he wouldn't have seen that, would he? But the sound of the blast echoed all over the city, and he could swear he heard a great cheer of little voices follow. They waited around the middle avenue to the port and the horde soon arrived, including his nephew and nieces hauling Daniyah along by both hands.

“Ladies, please!” he laughed, swooping in to snatch Feryal and Basira up under his arms, “You’ll stretch your mother out!”

“Like so much bread!” Daniyah agreed, sagging dramatically.

“No we won't!” Basira huffed, elbowing him in the ribs, “Unka’ Cass, put me down!”

“Not possible I'm afraid, we have to go to the beach.” he turned about, starting the march down.

“Oh!” Feryal peeped, “Um, hi.”

He glanced right and found his niece waving shyly to Ruadhán and Lil’ Crush and… he waved back.

“Why’s your hair that color?” Feryal asked, after a few minutes of aimlessly swinging her legs.

“I dunno, it just is?” Ruadhán shrugged.

“It's pretty.” she added, and the boy’s face flushed, “Like a flower.”

“No, it's like _fire.”_ Basira scoffed from his other arm, “Unka’ Cass, are you  _ever_ gonna show us more dragon fires? Unka’ Eret promised!” 

**Oh** **_did_ ** **you?**

Eret pointedly avoided his sidelong look.

“You terrify me, dear heart.” he sighed, low and long-suffering.

The Gronckles were ready and waiting, and their students knew what to do. They scattered, bolting for their favorite dragons to greet them, gentle and proper and he finally set his nieces down to do the same. Now freed, Eret slipped an arm around his waist and tugged him close.

“My love, you've worked _wonders.”_ he murmured, throat aching at the sight.

“Well, it started a bit rough. Raimi almost shoved his whole hand in Roller’s nose.” his husband laughed, warm and tender as sunshine, “He named her of course, but that was close enough for her liking. She misses them both, been begging to visit…”

The grey-green Gronckle was content to play with the twins for now, leading them in a chase up and down the beach as others started their exercises. Now, he did make a promise to Ruadhán and they were out of Gronckles… Lil’ Crush chirped, auricles flicking as the boy’s hand settled on his scales, twitching with nerves.

“I’ll handle this, you have your fun.” Eret squeezed his hip, rubbing a small circle there with his thumb before slipping away. 

Damn _tease._ They didn't even have the room to themselves anymore.

“Well, looks like you'll be practicing with Crush after all.” he announced, “Just walking for now, I think you have what it takes.”

Ruadhán did that thing again, hiding behind his long curls to look up.

“You're sure? Those other ones are really different.” he shifted uneasily.

“I'm sure. You're one of the oldest kids here, you have the strength to try something a _little_ more advanced.” he said, calm and careful, “Worst that can happen is you fall in the sand. Crouch a little for us please Crush… and stop  _wiggling.”_

The Fury grumbled, but laid himself out on his belly. Cassian offered an arm for balance as Ruadhán eased over Crush’s shoulders, then leaned conspiratorially closer.

“We’ll see if we can't get Eret to tell the tale of _his_ first flight.” he grinned like a fox, “He’s still embarrassed and it's been nearly three years!”

Ruadhán spluttered, trying to mask a laugh, “Wh- but why?”

“Let's just say, it all started with Tyrian’s mother and _her_ rider.” best to leave that temptation hanging, “Alright, keep your back straight, hold with your ankles a bit- Good! Now Crush, let's get up, slowly now…”

One paw at a time, the Fury rose and Ruadhán rocked forward before finding his balance, bracing against the dragon’s neck. There they paused, Crush calm and Ruadhán utterly moonstruck.

“Now, Furies have a nice smooth stride, if anything you'll move forward and back more than side-to-side. Keep your hands there on his neck, try to move _with_ him…” at his **asking** Crush took a few slow steps, “Good, good… So you  _feel_ where balance lies, right from your core? It gets a bit more complicated of course, but that is your foundation. In flight, you need your legs too, to keep centered. Dragons have their own point of balance, where your weight is easy to account for, so we build saddles around that. Between the shoulders for Furies, over the hips for Nadders, right in the middle for Gronckles…” 

On and on they went, pacing circles around the beach, though he wasn't sure how much Ruadhán was listening. The boy was a natural, riding through every change with ease and already he was finding a rhythm with Lil’ Crush, through the length of his strides and sway of his back, it was like _magic_. But, it would be irresponsible to try for more without even a rope for security. A Gronckle should be free soon though, the younger children tired easily. A first flight, a little more practice, then they could stop for lunch before hunting Father and Gobber down.

When the time came, he pulled his husband aside as Ruadhán scrambled up the Gronckle’s back, trying to keep utterly humiliating and giddy smiles subdued. With a few flaps then a more committed flutter the dragon rose, tilted forward- wait no too fast, **too fast!**

Too late.

They bolted after the pair but could only watch as the boy tumbled backward, falling the few feet into the sand.

“Ruadhán!” 

“Ru, bud!” 

Cassian slid to a stop on his knees, breath caught in his throat-

And Ruadhán was giggling, covered head to toe in sand and clutching his belly, God have mercy, his _smile._ Eret settled at his side, fingers trailing down his arm to curl around his wrist, calming, grounding… Right. He drew a slow breath, and Eret took over.

“Alright, let's get you up. Better to have a fall down here than up there.” his husband chuckled, offering his other hand, “How about one more go? I  _think_ I saw where you had trouble, gotta keep your grip tight and close-” 

Ruadhán managed his second and third flights much better, but there they had to end the lesson for the day. Once the harnesses were off the Gronckles went on their way, and their class filtered back into al-Mariyah. Tyrian set it upon himself to hunt down their smith and saddlemaker, and all but Skullcrusher were content to follow. It seemed the old Rumblehorn needed a bit of peace and quiet to get used to city life again, so they left him to it. Cassian was more than happy to let his husband lead the way through the market in search of a meal, walking with their arms loosely linked. Oh he was sure people looked, but he couldn't be bothered to care, not after so long apart. Ruadhán trailed a step or three behind, stuck fast to Lil’ Crush’s side and that might be just what the boy needed. It was good for him to bond with someone, anyone, for his own sake…

Oh, they should get enough for everyone, help Gobber get more familiar with the foreign flavors. Some skewers, roasted chickpeas, salted nuts…

“You can pick what you like.” he said to Ruadhán, once the crowds forced them closer.

“Uh… I never went down here much.” the boy muttered, clinging to Crush.

“Well if something catches your eye, just punch me in the arm.” Eret laughed.

Ruadhán’s lips twitched, almost nearing a smile.

He should've expected being the one to force some restraint, only allowing _one_ small package of honey-dumplings into the spread of other morsels.

“You'll rot your teeth out.” he scolded, his husband most of all.

“Spoilsport.” Eret grumbled, flushing pink.

At least Affan’s shop wasn't so far from the market, and Eret knew his own way there. It was easy to just walk without thinking, shoulders brushing, sneakily feeding each other bites of stuffed dates or herbed nuts. Crush was enough of a distraction and Ruadhán lingered a few steps behind, so they grew a little bolder. Cheeky bastard that he was, Eret made every effort to _tease_ with too-long brushes of lips over his fingers, and making a show of licking the rosemary-salt off his own with such a _coy_ smirk. Cassian’s cheeks burned, and there was no hiding the stuttering tempo of his heart either.

“Insufferable goat.” he huffed.

“It's _been_ three weeks, and counting.” Eret practically purred, drawing shivers up his spine.

“True. but if _that's_ too much for you, I have bad news about Ramadan.” it was his turn to smirk.

Eret blinked. “What?”

“It's about temperance, curbing desire to strengthen the soul and performing communal work, acts of charity and love. All meals are before sunrise and after sunset, with daily prayers until _Eid,_ 30 days after the crescent moon. Well, _mostly._ Children, the elderly, expectant mothers, _they_ aren't required to fast.” and now for the hard part, “But that also includes _chastity.”_

“For 30 days.” Eret swallowed hard.

“Yes. No one really expects _you_ to fast or attend prayers, but that's… unavoidable.” he sighed.

After a moment, Eret shrugged, “In for a felus, right? No sense making you watch me eat all day- which I _don't_ by the way, stop that.”

He danced away from the elbow aimed at his ribs, cackling under his breath, but soon returned to his rightful place at Eret's side.

“Thank you.” he murmured, twining their arms together, “I may not show it, but my faith still matters. It's more about the city coming together than… I don't know how to explain. It's _more_ than just prayers, something about the atmosphere changes entirely in a way you’d have to see to understand. I still have to play my part of course, but I promise it won't be _all_ misery.”

“I’ve survived on hard rations before, and I'll survive this. Maybe.” Eret snorted, “Keeping off _you_ will be the real struggle.”

 **It's a good thing we still have a week to have our fill then,** he drew the memory of a touch down his husband’s spine, lower and lower, to the dimples of his back…

With a mighty effort, Eret kept quiet and still, but he couldn’t hide the hitch in his breath or the hard throb of **_want_ ** through his core.

“Cheeky bastard.” he glowered, cheeks going rosy.

“Oh look, we’re here!” Cassian chimed, hauling Eret along.

Crispino’s old home certainly couldn’t match Ghadir’s in Cordoba, but it was still large by al-Mariyan standards. The main house faced the city with a modest garden setting the guest lodge apart, all with plain shutters and simple painted decorations, poetry and prayers. Sensing their arrival, Tyrian craned his head over the garden wall, hooting a **hello** that Nightshade and Foxglove quickly returned.

“Cassy, is that you?” Affan shouted.

“Yes _Fefs,_ it's us!” he called back. Might as well air out that old pet name-

The door in the wall flung open and Affan stood glowering in the threshold, red as a pomegranate with Father, Gobber, Safiyah, Snotlout… and _Enzo_ peering around him further back.

_“Really?”_ his brother hissed, “You had to dredge  _that_ up?” 

_“Fefs,_ let our brothers in!” Safiyah cackled, and Affan groaned.

“You had to remind her. You just _had_ to remind her…” 

They followed as their brother shuffled away, face buried in his hands and now Ghadir stared, face all red from the effort it took to stop laughing along with Safiyah.

_“Fefs?”_ she finally squeaked, trailing into a near-hysterical giggle.

“Saffy had a hard time saying everyone’s names, when she first started to talk.” he snickered, “Fefs, Cassy, Zee… what did you call Jarrah?”

Safiyah snorted, taking a few tries to choke out,  _“Ra-ra!”_

“Ah, yes. He hates it too. Use your new power wisely.” he winked, and Ghadir fell against Affan’s side, weak with laughter.

Just as they were setting their snacks down on the table, wings stirred the air and Nightshade landed hard, shooting a scornful look back at the too-small door… where Lil’ Crush was stuck fast, and he could just see Ruadhán over the Fury’s back.

“Really? You _know_ how doors work Crush.” Eret stomped over to help.

“So, you slept well?” he turned back to Gobber and Father.

“Like the _dead.”_ the smith sighed blissfully.

“And we appreciate the late start.” Father added, “Been planning what to do first. Snotlout showed us your little stash, dear Safiyah was about to take us to the smithy and leatherworks, and we’ve got those plans for saddles we already know how to make-”

Gobber jolted, latching on to Father’s arm with a white-knuckled vicegrip as his jaw dropped and all the color drained from his face, like he’s seen a ghost.

“Who is that?” he wheezed, drawing another ragged breath, “Thor, he looks just like-”

“Kinda like Hiccup.” Snotlout interrupted, “Just, pointier.”

“No. Like _Stoick.”_ Gobber sagged, tears gathering in his eyes.

Ruadhán still lingered in the doorway, no longer hidden now that Crush was scrambling over the wall after Foxglove. Safiyah, bless her, tried to pull Ghadir and Affan’s curious stares away while the boy shifted uneasily, at least until Crush coaxed him in. **Kin!** the Fury thrummed, making a beeline for Affan and dragging Ru with him.

“We’ve been charged with taking care of him.” he said quietly, “This is Ruadhán. He’s still a bit shy, we’re trying to take things slow.”

Safiyah explained the same in whispers to their siblings as Father’s face dropped, and Gobber scrubbed his eyes. Before he could say more, Enzo’s little flock of Fireworms scattered and streamed over to flutter around Ruadhán, peeping their **curiosity.**

“Careful!” he blurted, “Stay still, very still. They won't hurt you.”

The boy froze, arms half-raised and the little dragons gladly took the opportunity to land, scuttling all over. Slowly, they drew stilted, reigned-in giggles from deep in Ruadhán’s chest.

“Normally they live in hives their mother builds, haven't found one though. Yet.” Eret explained, “Haven't been able to explore much down there, but it's not so different from the other caves we’ve seen. Maybe Pippin and Grump can help us hunt for treasure.”

His attempted distraction didn't work, Father was far too concerned with Gobber, when he wasn't sneaking peeks at Ruadhán. Yes, this would be a shock for him too. A grand- no, _no_ stop that. It's too soon.

“Wait.” Snotlout went slack with the realization, “You have a _kid_ now?”

“Just said that Snots.” Eret rolled his eyes, “But… kinda. Won't call it more than he’s willing to accept, we’re just his guardians.”

“Still, that's-” Father couldn't say more, sniffling through a watery smile.

“Sorry, sorry…” Gobber sniffed, sitting up straighter, “Just a wee shock is all. But that’s _incredible_ lads, how in the world..?”

He shrugged, smile coming easy, “We made our argument well, now we just gave to prove that any parents are better than none. I think we’ll manage.”

“There’s no one better.” Father agreed, chuckling weakly as he swiped a tear away.

“I did have a favor to ask, on saddles.” Eret finally pulled up a chair, “There are two I wanted to work on first. One for Lil’ Crush, and another for a new dragon. Gonna have to steal him over to measure, he’s a _big_ lad.”

“Oh, of course! Furies are easy, finish that up by tomorrow.” Father shrugged, “I think I can guess _why._ Getting to lessons already?”

The Fireworms scattered again, returning to their perches all over Enzo and the smith didn't even flinch at their brushing wings or scrabbling claws. Well, looks like there was some hope after all, and that moonstruck awe still washed over Affan-

And Ghadir _noticed,_ smile falling a fraction as she looked between the two... and then her eyes met his. She flinched, picking at her cuffs.

“We did bring lunch, let's spread this out. Ah, but perhaps something to drink…” he thought aloud.

“Oh, let me-” Ghadir rose, ready to retreat inside.

“Here, I'll help.” he followed, meeting her glance with a knowing look, "Be right back."

“Don't get lost!” Gobber chortled, “Your father did!”

“Did not-”

_“Twice!”_

“Did _not!”_

The raucous laughter faded, and once they were out of sight Ghadir’s shoulders slumped.

“So, you've noticed too.” she mumbled, weaving through the rooms.

“Yes.” he admitted, “But it's not what you fear. I'll share as much as Affan will forgive, I only ask that you hear me out.”

Hesitantly, Ghadir glanced back over her shoulder.

“He _loves_ you, he has for years. There is nothing in the world he wanted more than to marry you and start a life together. But...” he drew a slow breath, gathering his thoughts, “For Enzo, he may well feel the same. Not  _more,_ but not less either. And I swear on my life he would never betray your trust, I've warned him plenty.” 

“But, how could someone-” she floundered, biting at her lip.

“Love twice in equal measure?” he offered, and she nodded, “Well, a parent can love more than one child, you can adore more than one friend… why should all but one form of love be infinite?”

Ghadir’s brows pinched, furrowing in contemplation.

“He won't breathe a _word_ of it if that's what you wish. Affan devoted himself to you, first and foremost.” he added, “I’m afraid that's… all I can say. He could do better to explain how he feels, and maybe he won't want anything more. I just don't know, and it's not a discussion for my ears anyway. Be honest with him, he’s already sworn to do the same.”

With a sigh, Ghadir nodded, “I will. And… at least he has  _taste.”_

“I will withhold further comment.” he grimaced. Finally, the kitchen.

“Do I _want_ to know?” she asked, trailing to a giggle.

“You mean they didn't tell you?” he said, glad for the lifting mood, “You haven't heard the ballad of  _dashing_ Enzo, who stashed away on a ship to sail north and ‘rescue’ me from my husband?” 

“He did _not!”_ Ghadir gasped.

“He absolutely did, and that's _after_ he tried to sneak aboard the same ship for a ‘romantic’ midnight meeting before we left...” he rolled his eyes, taking a stack of glasses, “Enzo doesn't have a subtle bone in his body, and to quote Affan, he’s a ‘great daft donkey’s ass’. You have nothing to fear.”

“I'm sure he said it with a bit more affection.” Ghadir smiled fondly.

“But of course, this is still _Affan.”_

That deep contemplation returned as Ghadir filled two pitchers.

“So, you two have a son now.” she observed.

“I… would not be so bold as to claim he’s our son. Not yet. He’s old enough to set his own boundaries and we’ll respect his choices, whatever those may be.” he swallowed hard.

“But you'd like it if he was. Your son, I mean.” 

“More than anything.” it came out more desperate than he would’ve liked, but it was the truth, “All we can do for now is build a good life for him, after so much loss. If it's meant to be, it will come about in it's own time.”

“Do you think-” Ghadir started, then bit her lip.

He only gave an encouraging hum.

“We haven't talked about children yet, and I'm not sure how Affan will react.” she said.

Cassian almost dropped the glasses, “Wh- if you're expecting, I don't think I should be the first-”

“No! No, not yet!” Ghadir squeaked, “I'm only thinking ahead since… well, we  _are_ married.” 

“Yes, yes I understand.” he cleared his throat awkwardly, “I don't think he's thought that far ahead so I might broach the topic… gently. And somewhere he can faint.”

Ghadir choked on a burst of laughter, “You- you think he’ll  _faint?”_

“I did! And I should expect the same from my brother’s tender heart.” 

It was good to see Ghadir laughing again, but they should get back before anyone came looking. There was work to do, for Ruadhán and Naji.

When they emerged, Tyrian was gone and Lil’ Crush wiggled impatiently under Gobber’s measuring ropes. Good, progress. He set the glasses down and Father looked up from his notes.

“Ah, we sent your boy Tyrian off after, ah- what did you say his name was?”

“Caduceus.” Eret answered, “I thought of inviting Naji but… dunno, kinda want it to be a surprise instead. And there isn't much wood to go around, we’ll have to be clever.”

“Hopefully Ragnar and crew will show up sooner than last year.” he pulled up a chair, “Did Laki say they would come again?”

“Maybe, they were still mulling it over.” Father shrugged, trying to mask his disappointment. 

“I, uh-” Affan cleared his throat, “If you're starting saddles, I don't suppose we could add one like mine to the list? For that blue… Shovel-Hovel? She’s made herself quite at home.”

“Of course! That’ll be easy.” he shrugged, pouring out drinks, “You  _can_ name them you know.” 

“We’re still thinking, there are too many ideas. But, it's almost time to get to the shop.” Affan smiled brightly, “Those little sun-worms have worked  _wonders,_ we can do twice the work in half the time!” 

“Told you so!” 

The conversations picked up elsewhere, so Cassian turned his attention to Ruadhán, perched behind Eret to watch Gobber at his work, and everyone else when he thought they weren't looking.

“You can speak up, if you have any questions.” he said quietly, making the boy jump.

Ruadhán fidgeted, sneaking another glance at Gobber.

“What happened? His leg and arm, I mean.” he nearly whispered.

“Ah. Well, Berk didn't always get along with dragons, there was a long time where they raided the island for food. So they had to defend themselves to survive, and you can't win _every_ battle.” he reined in a sigh, “Doesn't slow him down one bit of course. Our chief is missing a leg too, as his dragon is missing half his tail fin. If you ever saw a black dragon similar to Crush last month, but that was them.”

“And… is that ‘Hiccup’? The one they said I looked like.” 

“Yes, that was-” wait. He blinked, and Ruadhán seemed to realize what he said, “You  _speak_ Norse?” 

“...yeah.” the boy admitted sheepishly, “Just a little, I'm remembering a lot.”

Eret turned slowly, eyes equally wide with horror. How much had he overheard?!

“Uh.” he could muster nothing more eloquent.

 _“Well_ then.” Eret awkwardly cleared his throat.

That brought more stares, Father and Gobber and Snotlout.

“His father was from the north, so he grew up with Norse too.” he explained.

“Well how about that!” Gobber chuckled, eyes crinkling.

“Finally, someone else to talk to!” Snotlout groaned.

“You could have tried learning some Andalusi.” Safiyah jabbed, “Eret did!”

“...I couldn't focus.” Snotlout mumbled, cheeks coloring.

“I wonder _why.”_ he goaded. Oh, Jorgensen made this _too_ easy-

But Safiyah threw a dried fig at his head, “You stop that!”

“Never! All the hell you gave me, I can finally take revenge!” 

Before Saffy could waste more perfectly good food, twin shadows crossed the garden and Tyrian squawked a warning, **found, here!** The Nadder landed, rushing to join his mate in the shade and Caduceus swept in after him, all power and grace, though he scattered a good deal of sand about.

“Thor almighty.” Father gasped, “Oh _lookit_ him.”

Gobber whistled low, _“Big_ lad. Now let's get a look at you… Nice big shoulders, we can get straps around his legs I think? Shouldn't need more than that.”

“Sounds about right.” Father agreed, “Let's get all out buckles planned, then we can go brother the local blacksmiths. Oh, and rivets, always _rivets…_ Snotlout my boy, can you start on the canvas for Crush? Double-thick should be fine.”

They worked where they could, eventually bidding goodbye to Affan and Enzo for the afternoon and Ruadhán watched them all intently, through the stitching and cutting. Caduceus was turned loose once all his measuring was done but he lingered for a time instead, intensely **curious** about all the activity once he explained. The prospect of his own saddle sent the dragon into a subdued tizzy of **excitement** , it was a real fight to keep him from rushing off to steal his rider away to see. Lil’ Crush was more content to lounge about with his head in Ruadhán’s lap, and Foxglove inched closer every time they looked away, abandoning her spot by Nightshade. She quivered with eager, shy energy, like bottled lightning and she **wanted.** _What_ she wanted even Cassian couldn't tell, but with every slinking step that **want** intensified until she finally, finally rested her chin on Ruadhán’s other knee.

“What’s she doing?” the boy asked, voice going tight.

“She wants to be with you too.” he said simply, “Though, they might have to fight for space.”

Lil’ Crush snorted, glowering at Foxglove before pointedly turning and nuzzling deeper into **_his_ ** human’s arms, leaving the Sickle-Scale to wilt.

“Don't be mean, if all the others can share so can _you.”_ Ruadhán scolded, and- that was the most he’d said yet, “Sorry Fox, I'm not quite big enough for both of you. Maybe-”

‘Someday’ went unspoken, and he scratched Foxglove’s brow instead. She crooned, pulsing with so much **adoration** it made Cassian’s head spin and heart ache.

They made fine progress, but they would need a bigger force than _this_ to make enough saddles for a whole city. Maybe they could set up a workshop, take on apprentices and hire in other leatherworkers to take over once they… once they were done. Soon dragons all over the city streamed to the sea before sundown, following Dreamer’s **call** to dinner and it was time for them to do the same. He was still exhausted, so an early end to the day was exactly what he needed. Well, one of many things he needed, and his husband was chief among them. Their bedroom window would be so easy to sneak out of, from there it was just a matter of grabbing a blanket, maybe some wine, then they could enjoy one of their last nights of freedom down in their little cove. Once Ruadhán was asleep of course, and they could leave Crush on guard.

How someone knew to bring dinner to their door, he wasn't sure, but he sure wasn't turning down the finest the Alcazaba’s kitchens had to offer. Lifting the covers revealed cuts of slow-roasted beef crusted with herbs, tender rice sauced with gravy, baked artichokes and stewed early peaches and- _saffron buns?_ Heaven have mercy, _saffron buns!_ They ate to bursting, even Ruadhán, then just… relaxed around the table once he cleared a little space. Lil’ Crush snuck his way in to curl up at Ruadhán’s back, luxuriating in all the attention. But through the scritching and scratching, a few scales flaked off the Fury’s shoulder and Ruadhán flinched.

“You said- that's _supposed_ to happen, right?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah, and he probably feels better for it. Save those, maybe we can get your own vest started. Round up some of the others, give them a good grooming too, you’ll have a proper collection in no time.” Eret said, masking an eager smile.

“Oh…” Ruadhán took up a scale, turning it in the light to study it's color.

“Maybe we can get Snotlout to make us a proper pattern, before he goes.” he added.

“Yeah, that too. Let's pack this up, save some for breakfast.” Eret lurched to his feet.

Ruadhán got a first turn in the washroom while they cleaned, setting the dirty dishes out on the table by the door. So _strange,_ to be treated like nobles just for playing with dragons all day. Not that he was complaining of course.

Twilight was settling in now, and Ruadhán bid them another goodnight before retreating to his room and drawing the curtain. Lil’ Crush ignored that, and crawled under until all but his tailfin was stuffed inside.

 **_Damn_ ** **that’s cute,** Eret smiled so hard it ached, affection shining bright.

 **Yes, it is,** he stood up on his toes to kiss Eret’s cheek, **now it's our turn, come.**

He dragged his husband along by the hand, taking up one of their oil lamps after a second thought. They wouldn't need a full soak, but a quick wash was absolutely necessary. Eret pulled the drapes shut behind them and the second the lamp was on a table, warm, calloused hands slid under his shirt, rucking it up under his arms as a firm chest pressed flush to his back.

“So _impatient.”_ he scoffed, pulling the tunic off over his head.

“I want to see you.” Eret murmured against the shell of his ear, “We missed our anniversary, and if we only have a few days I'm not wasting a _minute.”_

“Do as you like, but keep _quiet.”_ he warned, “We can sneak out to the cove after.”

“And what shall we do there?” Eret grinned against his neck, reaching around to unlace his trousers.

“That depends, should all our past musings be a tease or a promise?”

He leaned back into Eret’s chest, kicking his pants away and the low, appreciative groan against his ear left him shuddering. Then Eret moved, dragging him closer still by the hips and grinding long and slow against his ass.

“You're sure?” he asked, barely a whisper.

 _“Yes.”_ he pressed back, rolling his hips and arching his back, relishing the way the grip at his waist tightened, “As much as we can. I want to feel your hands on me for days after, ache for weeks, mold myself to every inch of you-”

“We aren't gonna make it to the cove at this rate luv.” Eret panted now, one hand splaying wide over his stomach, tracing lower in stolen inches.

“We’ll have to, I'm not subjecting Ruadhán to this.” he said firmly, “Now, get all that off.”

They tore themselves apart long enough to wash, scrubbing quickly knowing they would likely need another go once they got back. Eret finished first and scurried out to gather what they needed, so Cassian took those extra minutes to… get the more embarrassing matters taken care of. Better in here than out there. Dried, re-dressed, and far too eager, he found his husband in the main room slipping a bottle of wine and two glasses into a basket. 

“C’mon, Crush is waiting.” Eret whispered, “And they're asleep.”

He nodded, snagging their travel blanket off a chest. They crept out between the screens, leapt into the saddle, and with a few hard beats of Skullcrusher’s wings they were off. There was no moon, only the stars lit the way to their little hollow and _luckily_ none of the new flock had taken it over. So there Crush landed and left them for his own peace and quiet, but not so far that they couldn't call him. Cassian threw out the blanket, Eret set down the basket and they stripped in a rush, no amount of touch could ever be _enough_ after all those weeks. But in the same measure he wanted to take his time, _relish_ this before the crescent moon rose. Eret’s hands caught him halfway, dragging him close and slipping down his back until his thumbs rolled into the hollow of his back-

“You tease.” he pouted, but there was no hiding a shiver of anticipation.

“Payback luv.” Eret hummed, drawing his nails _uphisspinesweetmercy._

“Down, _now.”_ he growled, hauling Eret towards the blanket.

“Wait, wait mind the sand-”

His husband settled first, where the basket would be in easy reach and it took a monumental effort not to _pounce_ on him. No, he would move slow, falling to his knees, slinking forward until he could take his rightful place astride Eret’s thighs.

“So, do you want to take over?” his husband asked, nuzzling into his throat.

“You already know the answer to that.” he answered, pulse rising.

Eret set a jar of oil close, pulling the cork from an oddly wide mouth. Oh, perfect actually, they could just dip their fingers in, which Eret did and- He shuddered at the first gentle press of fingertips to the small of his back, chasing the drips of oil down and delving deep in search of- _there._ He gasped, jerking a fraction away before rolling more insistently back as Eret petted his side, stroked the crest of his hip, down to his thigh, squeezing harder there to ground him. Two could play at that. Threading fingers into Eret’s hair, silken and _perfect,_ Cassian dragged his head back to kiss him deep and desperate, a distraction from that first sting of discomfort as a probing fingertip breached the ring of muscle. It was only a prickle, quick to dull as he forced himself to relax and take _more,_ coaxing Eret’s tongue into his mouth. Heat curled low, pulsing through his core and it left his knees weak, but his body knew not to resist the slow, slick press of his husband’s finger, _knowing_ what was to come.

“Another.” he gasped, rocking between the slow curl of the digit in him and the hard muscle of Eret’s stomach, leaving a long wet streak in his eagerness.

“So impatient.” Eret fired back. But, he obliged.

Relax, relax, he had to focus, breathing deep with his head thrown back and Eret took the chance to latch on to his neck, teeth scraping where the muscles corded and strained from the spike of pure _sensation._ Their bond halved the pain and doubled the pleasure, so when Eret pressed deep, twisted _just right,_ they both saw stars and rode that high together, holding themselves on the brink of _bliss_ until they trembled from the effort. Finally, after too long slowly rocking back to meet even slower thrusts of three wicked fingers, Cassian could wait no longer.

“Enough, that's enough.” he was panting now, and pushed at Eret’s chest.

It wasn't truly ideal, with no pillows Eret was stuck flat on his back but this was no less satisfying. His husband was all spread out, hair fanning wide like wings, chest heaving, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs as he eased forward and dipped his own fingers into the oil. He knew Eret would be dripping wet already, he always was by now, but there would be no taking chances this night… even if he was so _empty_ it ached. He could take just a moment to tease, _slowly_ dragging slick fingers up the perfect curve of Eret’s cock to circle the crown, half-freed from the loose collar of skin-

 _“Cass!”_ he choked, spine arching as he threw his head back, mouth falling open so _beautifully._

“Alright, since you asked so nicely.” he chuckled.

He had to twist to get this done properly, stroking slow until Eret was perfectly slick, but what followed was always the hardest part. Rising up, leaning forward, coaxing Eret _in,_ inch by inch as his thighs trembled from the strain but his body yielded as it should. Heavens _yes,_ how he’s missed this… all those months of practice were worth it to see the _rapture_ in his husband's face when their bodies fell flush, so full he could feel it with every desperate breath. Lightning crackled under his skin as he forced himself to wait, gathering his strength but still rocking a little, shifting the weight and pressure against _that_ spot…

“Cass, _gods_ you're so good-” Eret gasped, “So tight…”

“And you're _perfect.”_ he had to lean a little further forward, bracing a hand over Eret’s heart, “We were _made_ for each other, how else could we fit so perfectly? Like a sword in it's sheath…”

He punctuated that with a languid roll of his hips, sogood, so _good._ He shuddered and Eret writhed, the pleasure combined was almost too much. The silken heat and pressure, the weight bearing down from within, they couldn't even draw a line between _his_ heart, _my_ hands, it was all _theirs._ But the electric edge was starting to dull, they had to move and that meant becoming Cassian and Eret again. He shifted, easing up a scant inch before letting himself fall back, a ragged moan falling from his mouth and sweet mercy, the flutter of Eret’s eyes, the flash of his throat in starlight…

“Beautiful…” he murmured, half drunk of the sight alone, “My moon, my stars, Arvundil’s fire made flesh-”

Eret smirked, bracing his heels to thrust up just as he rose again and that, _that_ left him breathless, starstruck. All delicacy was abandoned now, the desperate need to chase that sensation left him burning everywhere they touched. The wet slap of skin, the slick glide of their bodies, he sang praises to all of it in a stumbling lilt of Norse and Andalusi, but two languages weren't enough. It was a shame he never took to poetry like his brothers, he could fill _libraries_ with the praises of Eret’s eyes, his strength, the ripple of muscle and starmap of scars, his honey-sweet voice lost to the throes of pleasure-

He forced himself upright as Eret’s hips snapped up, the shift guiding his cock _just right_ and Cassian choked, freezing as Eret thrust one, twice more-

The world went white as pure _bliss_ roared through him, toes curling, fingers digging deep into his husband’s shoulders as one slow thrust, then another and another and _another_ wrung more pleasure still from him and fire flooded his core. Shuddering, grinning, _satisfied,_ he collapsed, sprawling over Eret’s chest, gasping for breath and tacky with sweat and soon, tragically _empty._ Calloused hands soothed down his back, kneading where he was bound to be sore come morning and he rolled into that touch, gathering just enough strength to press a kiss to Eret’s breastbone.

“That was _good.”_ he rasped, voice half-gone.

“Yeah.” Eret said, almost reverently, “Not sure I can manage this every night for a week though.

“No.” he agreed, scooting higher to nuzzle against Eret’s pulse, “But you _were_ beautiful. Still are.”

Breath puffed over his brow, almost a scoff, “I’ll take your word for it.”

“I mean it.” he pressed, “If you could _see_ yourself, the light you bring with you wherever you go…”

“Well…” Eret looked away, almost shyly, “The moon isn't much without a sun, is it?”

He snorted, “I'm no _sun.”_

“How many times have I shown you that sunrise?” Eret countered, “You're all of that and more, I just- I don't have the _words_ for it.”

“I suppose we’ll have to browse through some proper poetry then, Affan must have his collection out now.” he sighed, stretching hard as his spine twinged.

“What, he’s a poet?”

“Not really, he's more of an enthusiast. Jarrah and Zayd are quite good though.” he shrugged under Eret’s wandering hands, “Oh, _there_ my love, right there-”

He shuddered as Eret dug his thumbs in harder just below his ribs, rolling where the muscle was starting to knot. Oh, he was bound to be monstrously sore tomorrow, but it was worth it for the way his skin still tingled, and aftershocks of pleasure rippled through his belly. Still half-hard, his cock managed a twitch of interest against Eret’s thigh and he gasped for the sweet ache that drew in his hips.

“Damn, already?” his husband chuckled low, so warm it tickled in his ears, “Didn't think you'd have the spark for more.”

“I may, or may not. Can't tell.” he grunted, shifting again.

“Here, let me up…”

Eret slid out from under his sprawl of limbs, grimacing when they had to peel their bellies apart. He was too boneless to do more than pillow his head on his arms as Eret straddled his thighs, pressing oiled palms into his back.

“Just relax…” Eret murmured, leaning to whisper in his ear, “Let me take care of you.”

Cassian groaned, long and strangled as that kneading pressure trailed lower, cradling the blades of his hips, the back of his thighs, coyly _skimming_ the curve of his rear…

“How _did_ you learn all this?” he whispered, shuddering when the touch was almost too-much.

“Picked it up here and there.” he felt Eret shrug, “As a crew, you help each other out through the growing pains. ‘S how you survive. Course, we were wearing a _lot_ more.”

“I should hope so.’ with an awkward twist, he managed to throw a smile over one shoulder.

“What? Not getting jealous I hope.” Eret snorted, “It's not like any of them tickled my fancy. And the most they ever saw of me was… when they bandaged me up. After Drago.”

“...I'm glad they could be there for you.” he frowned through the ache in his heart, “And I hate to admit it, but it's probably a good thing _I_ wasn't. I would have killed Drago then and there or died trying.”

“Yeah… They didn't like it either, don't worry. And, we got ‘im in the end.”

A trail of kisses burned up his spine and ended at the corner of his mouth, sweet and lingering. Then Eret settled, molding to every curve of his back, bracing just a little on forearms that caged him in, nuzzling into the back of his neck…

“You seem ready for more.” he teased, wiggling his hips.

“How could I not? You're all laid out like a feast.” teeth scraped over his skin, “And I'm _starving.”_

 _“Eret.”_ he gasped, jerking from the sparking pleasure of it, “I- more oil first, but _don't you dare stop.”_

“As you command.” his husband purred, right in his ear.

***

They collapsed again, still shaking and boneless from their shared orgasm and doubly exhausted, filthy too. But with a mountainous effort he rolled them both to their sides, pulling Cass flush with his chest, one palm flat over his heart and the other slowly stroking his hip. Something about _enveloping_ his husband like this, still buried in the velvet-soft heat of his body, marked twice over as deep as he could reach… it felt so _right_ in a way he couldn't name. As tightly wound as they were, his seed found a way out, leaking down Cassian’s thigh. Gods, there was so _much_ of it, and the sight alone left him quaking. Only the threat of chafing and Cassian’s aura of bone-deep exhaustion curbed the desire for even more. They _had_ time, no need to burn themselves out… 

It took far too long for their breath to ease and hearts to slow, and then they finally had to contend with getting home. And clean, clean first. Half-clean. At least the ocean was right there, since he had to carry Cass to it, dropping into the cold water to splash off the worst of the sweat and flaking, itching mess. He dressed quickly, though Cass could only manage getting his shirt back on and had to ride all the way home draped over his lap for the sake of the blooming ache in his hips. Every rattle and shake sent the echo of that on to him, and already the guilt was starting to eat away at the edge of the afterglow. Dutiful as ever, he carried his husband back inside, kicking a screen back into line on the way to the bathroom for another, fresh rise. At least Ru was still asleep, thank everything. Cass stole one of his shirts on the way out, falling into bed with it all caught around his arms and shoulders, so with a loving sigh, Eret tugged it all into place, nudged them both into their favored spots, and pulled the sheets up high. Oh, if only there was enough light to see his husband by… He almost looked forward to dawn. Sleep first, sleep first, Cass damn well deserved it. He nuzzled close, kissing the back of Cass’s neck, and his shoulders where the hem of the too-big shirt fell away. 

“I love you…” he murmured, trailing kisses higher over neck, cheeks, lips, brow, “My sun, my ocean and tide…”

Maybe it sounded stupid coming from his mouth, but he’d meet every act halfway and it was still the truth.

Datura woke them both shortly after sunrise, bless her, and- Cassian was a knotted ball of **ache** under his arm. No, no no… He didn't think twice about siphoning away as much of that pain as he could and it took root in his back and hips, glowing red-hot with every twitch. 

_“Damn.”_ he hissed, curling tighter, “I really went overboard…”

“I asked you to.” Cass insisted, “It's my-”

“No.” Eret cut him off, “No… I should've stopped. I'll take the lessons today, you rest up and, I'll try to find something for the pain after.”

Cassian groaned something resembling ‘No’, slowly levering upright.

“I'm no delicate flower, I'll manage.” he continued, scrubbing his face hard.

“Cassian-”

 _“Eret.”_ Cass grabbed him by the cheeks, squeezing gently, “I'll be fine, I just need to walk it off. And eat breakfast. And-”

His husband leaned closer, lips brushing his ear, “I won't regret it one bit.”

An icy prickle crawled up his spine, and he swallowed hard against the flutter of his heart.

“Alright. Just… speak up if you need a break.” he pouted.

Cass leaned in for a kiss, he could almost _taste_ it-

 **Up!** Datura whined, pouncing up on the bed to wedge between them.

“Tura no!”

“Datura-”

Ruadhán was just rousing in his room by the time they rolled out for breakfast, and he finally emerged half-draped over Lil’ Crush’s neck. Now that Eret looked, he could see a _certain_ resemblance to Hiccup and Stoick, though that was mostly just the red hair, green eyes and freckles. He was too young yet to tell how his features would change, and it's not like they knew what his parents looked like… Time would tell. Maybe. Depending on how long Ruadhán was content to stick around.

“No lessons at the beach today, for the other kids at least.” he said casually, “The Gronckles do get breaks after all, but we can still have a go. Plus the saddle, it'll be good to see how we make them so you can take care of it.”

“So it's… mine?” Ruadhán asked, eyes starting to brighten.

“Yeah, but it's your responsibility too. Even leather won't last forever, your life could depend on keeping a saddle in working order. Well show you how.” he continued.

Lil’ Crush prummed, butting against the boy’s back and he laughed… then pursed his lips.

“What about the other one? Foxglove I mean.” Ruadhán asked, half-hiding behind his curls.

“That will have to come in time.” Cass said gently, “Sickle-Scales aren't for the faint of heart, and even as young as she is, Fox is  _powerful._ You'll need to build up your strength first, she’ll need a proper saddle, and that's to keep the both of you safe.” 

“We could try a little walking though, I'm sure she’ll love that.” he added, grin growing.

Crush huffed, auricles folding flat for a proper pout.

“Oh you stop that! If Tyrian learned to share, so can you.” he scolded.

The Fury considered him for a long moment, then stuck out his tongue in defiance. **Mine.**

“You're _impossible.”_ he threw up his hands in defeat.

There were far more than Gronckles waiting in the training yard when they made their slow, hobbling way there. True to Cass’s word, walking helped in spite of the pain and he could mask it all by the time they dove into work. There were new harnesses to make, new dragons to meet, and as often as he could, whenever they were close, he shouldered some of that ache. Cassian breathed a little easier, carried less tension, it was _worth_ the effort.

The guards managed well in their mission, befriending a few Feathrefalls, Hobblegrunts, Snipes and Waveskippers, but Uncle Isra never ceased to surprise. A proper _huge_ Lava-Knight trundled along at his side, effortlessly eye-to-eye with him as she kneaded all six paws into the dirt. It was a fitting match, she had a certain stoick grace and authoritative arch to her neck that faded in an instant with their greeting **.**

“Morning Uncle!” he waved over a Gronckle’s back, “Quite the sight she makes!”

Isra blinked, silently mouthing ‘she?’ as he turned to stare at his dragon. She blinked back, slow and catlike before ducking her head and knocking their brows together. Oh, _that_ was an awful sound, and Isra staggered back a step.

_“Easy_ lass!” he rushed to them, edging in the middle, “He doesn't have armor plating! Gotta be gentle with the likes of us.”

She huffed, but her next breath gave her pause. **Kin?** she chirped, sniffing again.

“That's quite the friend you've made Uncle!” Cass joined them, “Looks like she’ll be easy to make a saddle for, once we finish Naji’s”

“Yes, it was Dalal’s cooking that lured him- _her_ in, and I was a day away from naming her _Eret.”_ Isra chuckled, and Cass did too, the traitor, “Guess I'll have to think of something else. But no rush on the saddle, still not sure how I feel about flying… being up so high, it's not  _natural.”_

Isra shivered despite the heat and his dragon rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.

“And speaking of Naji, he’s making his laps. I'm sure he’ll be around soon.” 

There was time to kill then, and dragons to ride. Even their uncle caved and took a spin on the Lava-Knight, though her gait was so smooth he hardly had to try. That beige-blue Gronckle stuck fast to Javan despite all his fumbling, bless her… and the rest only grew in their confidence. The morning wore on, they were nearly finished, but there was still no sign of Naji, or-

A melodic howl heralded the arrival of Caduceus, though he was forced to land on the far side of the yard. Wait, who was that? Another rider sat precariously perched behind the first, but they moved too fast or too much to see.

“Cass, heads up.” he absently reached out, but flinched away from his husband’s back. Wait, he wasn't made of _glass_ you idiot-

Without even a glance, Cass leaned into his touch anyway, easing under his arm to tuck against his side.

“Hmm?” he stifled a yawn, “Oh, it's Naji and- that's… not the emir.”

Whoever-it-was slipped to the ground, out of sight behind Caduceus’s bulk with Naji’s help. But as Cass shifted, hissing from the spark of pain, the dragon jolted. **Hurt?** Caduceus cried, and even as he scrambled around the shifting crowds he carried himself with grace, until he could roll his snout into Cassian’s hand. **Hurt, hurting deep,** he crooned. Right, he seemed drawn to pain…

“We’re workin on it bud, but thanks.” he said, scratching the dragon’s jaw.

Caduceus snorted. **Helping,** he insisted, **breathe, breathe deep.**

“What-” 

The dragon reared back, inhaled slow, then _coughed_ a cloud of mist right into Cassian’s face. He gasped, recoiling on reflex as the vapor filled his mouth, throat, lungs, the sensation was so alien it made even Eret’s skin crawl. Then the coughing started, but that only pulled more of the mist in, icy, prickling- _Numbing._

“Easy, easy. Keep breathing.” he murmured, gathering the hem of his shirt to wipe the beaded moisture off Cass’s face. What _was_ that, venom?

“Sorry! Cads, _move-”_ Naji finally caught up and hauled on his dragon’s neck.

“Issalright.” Cass choked between rasping coughs, “He’s jus’ ‘elping.”

 **Helping,** Caduceus echoed, ruffling Naji’s hair with his breath, **hurt going.** Slowly, Cass straightened, inhaling even slower as he fought the tickle in his throat but… there wasn't a single complaint, head to toe. Oh thank Odin…

“I wanted to study a little more before I showed you, but that mist, it cures pain better than anything! Even _opium.”_ Naji trembled with excitement, “And it lasts for days with no delirium, none! We found out by accident, when Caduceus met my-”

“Naji!” a woman stumbled around the dragon’s tail, catching herself on his shoulder, “Moving so fast! You'll be the death of me yet- oh.”

She paused, eyes roving over both of them before the spark of recognition struck.

“It's _you.”_ she breathed, and took a wobbly step forward.

Before he could even start wondering _who is this,_ the woman had Cassian’s face pressed between her palms and dragged him down to kiss all over his nose, brow, cheeks-

“Mom!” Naji squawked, flushing ruddy-red. Caduceus rumbled **amusement** behind him, so very helpful, really, but _waitthatwashismother?!_

“My- oh, my apologies!” she jumped back a step, hands fluttering to fix her veil.

Yeah, he could see it now. They had the same soft eyes, and squarer faces like Astrid, probably the same dark curls too. But she looked so drawn, thin, pale like she hadn’t seen the sun in months. Cass seemed to notice the same as he straightened himself out.

“Anyway…” Naji coughed, “Caduceus tracked Mom down and did the same thing. It's the first time in  _years_ she hasn't been bedbound by pain, nothing could help her before this. At least, not so _well._ ” 

“Its taken these weeks to get my strength back.” his mother continued, tears gathering in her eyes, “I haven't been able to walk in the gardens with my family in- too long, it's been  _too long.”_

She sniffed, laughing weakly as she scrubbed her cheeks.

“What you've done here, for al-Mariyah, for my _son,_ there are no words for my gratitude.” 

Her arms snagged both of them this time, though only a hand could reach as high as _his_ neck. But this was _the emir’s wife_ he couldn't well hug back, right???

“Mom, you're freaking them out.” Naji groaned, head thrown back to the sky, “Everyone’s  _staring.”_

Right, they weren't exactly alone out here, he’d bet most of the guards were gawping.

He hastily cleared his throat, “It's- we just did what was right, don't need any thanking for that.”

“Oh, dear heart, you've gone and done more than ‘that’. I may have been stuck in bed most days, but I still heard whispers just fine and even after all that turmoil in Cordoba…” Naji’s mother frowned, taking a step back, “A few dragons in al-Mariyah was all it took to make people feel  _safe_ again.” 

Cassian stiffened,  _“What_ turmoil in Cordoba?” 

“Well, the short version…” Naji scuffed his feet, and finally drew a deep breath, “Caliph al-Nassim of Cordoba was the one to recognize Father as Emir, but he was killed in an uprising about two months ago and we jus don't know where we stand with abd al-Rahman. Al-Nassim’s brother is still the governor of Seville, plus his son is still alive, so we could back them instead? But we can't throw ourselves into another war…”

Something like dread prickled up his spine, and Cass’s hand trembled against his.

 **Our deal could be tested sooner than I thought,** husband’s fingers were cold as ice.

 **I think the emir has more honor than that,** he folded Cass’s hand in his, **let’s… keep our eyes peeled.**

Cass nodded slowly, **and we should send a message to Jarrah, make sure he’s alright. I don't know why de wouldn't** **_say_ ** **anything, Ghadir’s parents too! This** **_just_ ** **happened.**

“We were just _in_ Cordoba.” he said aloud, “And everything looked fine? Didn't hear a word.”

Naji and his mother shared a look, brows furrowing.

“Alright, I think this involves _me_ now.” Isra sighed, strolling over, “What happened?”

“That's the thing, the city looked fine every time! Picking up, dropping off, we went there about four times and Jarrah didn't mention a thing. Javan too, the other one.” he wracked his brain, but couldn't recall so much as a tile or paving stone out of place, “We had no idea.”

“We can't really get in contact with any of them, they're always on the move. Last we heard, al-Rahman was accusing us of trying to turn him into a puppet!” Naji said.

 **I've got** **_several_ ** **bad feelings about this,** his skin was properly crawling now.

“We’re working on a sort of dragon mail service, but that's far too long in the making to help now. There are a few that know the way to Cordoba-” Cass started.

“And Seville.” he added.

“We would need to lead Flutterkites to other cities to show them the way, then find places for the mail to get dropped off… But at least some know where Jarrah lives. We can start with him, make sure everyone is alright.” Cass finished.

“It might be worth a try sending one to Seville too, but that's for the council to decide.” Isra scrubbed at his beard, “I'll let you know what they say.”

“I think we’ll be handling saddles the rest of the day, Dad and Gobber are still getting settled. Course they're complaining about not having a proper workshop.” he shrugged.

“We _might_ be able to get something set up in that regard, for the sake of the future. What do you need?” Isra asked.

“It takes a bit of everything. Wood, leather, cloth, iron… we have a fair amount of the tools we need, it's mostly a matter of space. And a forge, Gobber will want one for himself. Then once that's settled, we could take on apprentices and staff, make a proper business of it for someone to take over.” Cass said.

“Hmm… Doesn't sound _too_ complicated.” their uncle pursed his lips, thinking hard.

“There are a few empty buildings by the port that should have enough room, they still have tables and storage.” Naji offered, “One of the shipwrights moved last winter.”

“That could work, so long as a forge won't cause any trouble.” he said, “But if everyone’s happy with their new partners, we can bring the old goats over tomorrow to get measures. Shouldn't take too long.”

“Ha, I'm sure they’ll be thrilled! All these eager young sparrows-” 

“That includes not-Eret.” he snickered.

The Lava-Knight snorted and Isra rolled his eyes, “Oh, I see I'll never live that down.”

“No, you won't.” Cass sighed fondly, “And now we’re here for a  _year.”_

Ruadhán rode Lil’ Crush all the way to Affan’s house, posture relaxed and balance perfect, and the Fury was _beside_ himself with excitement. Foxglove and Datura followed close behind, and Naji insisted on coming too, along with his mother- _Qiana_ she insisted. She rode on Caduceus with surprisingly-seasoned confidence and grace, since her strength hadn’t quite recovered enough to risk exhausting herself on all the hills. The unmasked joy practically _shone_ from her and it brought the late morning crowds to a dead stop just so they could watch. If she’d been cooped up for months and years, it was no wonder she was so happy to be out in the sun and sea breeze. Caduceus was pretty pleased with himself too, and trundled along with his chin on his _other_ human’s shoulder.

“So, this is _your_ dad.” Naji probed, once they were nearly there.

“Yeah, there's no missing him.” he found himself laughing, “You came down to the ship last time right? You might've seen him then.”

“Huh… I can't recall.” Naji frowned, “I  _was_ a little distracted at the time.” 

“And you spent _days_ showing off all your hard work.” Qiana laughed brightly, only half-hiding her grin.

“Mother!” her son groaned, burying his face in his dragon’s jaw.

“I have _years_ of teasing to catch up on dear! You've only brought this upon yourself.” 

Lil’ Crush _prummed_ in concern, and Eret’s heart caught in his throat. Slowly, just from the corner of his eye, he peeked forward and found Ruadhán tense, shoulders hunched tight. Oh… oh no. Cass noticed the same, and gave him a nudge.

 **Go, walk with him. But don't pry just yet,** his husband’s sorrow and _longing_ came through loud and clear.

 **I'll do my best,** he promised, and slipped around the Fury’s other side.

He fell into step at Crush’s shoulder, silent while the chatter continued behind them and Ruadhán… he kept his head bowed, hiding in his hair.

“Hey.” he said gently, after a time. Ruadhán flinched, and he felt it like a knife to the ribs.

“Doing okay?” he tried again, softer still.

“Don't want to talk about it…” the boy mumbled, hands clenching on Crush’s neck.

“That's alright.” he shrugged, and drifted closer, “If, you'll forgive me saying… I know how you feel.and if you ever  _want_ to talk, just say the word.” 

He left it at that and Ruadhán just barely looked, still guarded and uncertain… then nodded once, just the barest twitch of his head. That… that would have to suffice for now, and he reigned in any urge to offer comfort. It was still too soon. They carried on in silence, all the way to Affan’s house.

There were more tables set up in the shade this time, covered in leather bits and tools and cloth, and a half-finished saddle. That got Ruadhán’s spirits back up, or it was at least a distraction from old ghosts. Gobber and Dad were pouring over their notes, barely looking up for their arrival even with all the new voices.

“There you are! Come on, I can't feel my fingers and these straps need stitching.” Gobber waved them over, “The other ones need cutting out too- eh. Who’s that?”

They paused properly now, and Dad’s brow furrowed, “Isn't that one of those bookish lads from last time? The ones that came down to the dock.”

“Yeah, same kid and his Mom too. Turns out, he’s the emir’s son.” he said, ‘Naji’s his name, and Qiana. They’re curious, to see how this all works so let’s keep Cad’s saddle out of sight.”

“Oh. That's someone important, yeah?” Gobber fidgeted, scooting a knife out of sight.

“Yeah, but they're fine people, they just wanted to see what we’re up to.” he shrugged, pulling over a few pieces of leather, “Now fill us in, what’s going where?”

He made room for Ruadhán at the table, laying out tools and burnishers and awls as Dad started explaining all their little edits to the design, including a lap-belt and a higher back to the seat. Wood only made it into the pommel and a bit of frame, but they could always add to it once Ragnar came by again-

Oh. They should warn Dreamer about that first, no way he wouldn't recognize the flagship. A task for later.

Across the garden, in the shade of the trees, Cassian and Ghadir set up the table and refreshments for their guests. Grump and Pippin wandered over in their own time, drawn by new voices and smells and that set Naji buzzing. Ruadhán watched too, but he was decidedly unimpressed.

“They're so… _fat.”_ the boy shot him an incredulous look, “They can actually fly?”

“Yeah, believe it or not. Even when they're fast asleep!” he chuckled and **called** to Pippin.

The Hotburple sniffed sedately, returning **question, new? New,** he agreed, new **kin.** Pippin jolted at that, scrabbling to haul her bulk about and she gathered her wings for a few quick flutters, crossing the garden and flopping flat beside their table. She snuffed more instantly now, eyes bright and ears twitching like an eager kitten.

“It's still weird.” Ruadhán’s nose wrinkled, “But… it  _kinda_ looks like those Gronkies.” 

“Gronckles.” he corrected, “But yeah, they are pretty similar. Pippin here is Dad’s dragon, Grump is Gobber’s. Watch your hands, she can get a bit nibbly.”

Ruadhán sidled a few steps away, almost hiding behind him, though Pippin hadn’t moved at all. No, she was content to sit and sniff and watch.

“Her brother is still back home, watching after the kids.” he continued, “I wonder if there’ll be any eggs this year, now that I think about it.”

“They don't always? Or, every year I mean.” 

“No, most only have a clutch every other year and some wait even longer in-between. A few of our flock’ve only been around for one season, so we don't know if they’ll have another go this winter.” he shrugged, “Now, let's get working. You ever done anything with leather before? Gotta have to hammer holes first to stitch it…”

Ruadhán watched for a time, and proved handy enough with a needle and thread once pieces were ready. Lil’ Crush was sure to grow, so there was no need to really commit to the first saddle and… if Ruadhán chose to stay, he’d keep growing too. It would be best not to get his own hopes up, the kid hadn’t been around for a _week_ . There would need to be an honest talk, sooner rather than later. Ruadhán deserved to know there were no expectations, no demands, just whatever _he_ needed.

So, they worked; sewing straps and buckles, riveting the seat together, stuffing bundled grass in for padding, wrapping up the handles, and the whole of it was done by lunchtime. Crush barely held still for the fitting and Ruadhán watched intently as the straps slowly tightened around the Fury’s arms and chest. **Fly, fly! Fly?** Crush pressed over and over, wiggling a bit in the unfamiliar restraint of the straps.

“Not _quite_ yet bud. Go for a spin, make sure nothing’s pinching. Oh don't give me that look, the quicker you get it done the quicker you get back.” he shooed the Fury off, “One step closer to being a proper rider, yeah?”

Ruadhán only nodded once, and kept his eyes trained on the dragon spinning and tumbling up above. Thor, the _awe_ in his eyes…

“Well, looking good so far.” Dad announced, “These little tables won't be enough I'm afraid, not for long anyway.”

“We’re working on that actually, Naji thinks there's a workshop down by the port we could use. It's got plenty of space, we could get a little forge in…” he shrugged.

“Sounds _miles_ better.” Gobber huffed, "’Specially if we can handle our own iron. Think there's any in those caves? Or- _oh,_ does your ocean-beastie still have that shackle on it? That's our problem solved right there!”

“Yeah, he does. Dunno how we can get it off though.” he frowned.

“Eh, you get him to sit still and I'll handle the rest. Oh, and something with _proper_ hot fire, I'll need that too.” the smith was already off planning.

“I've got some ideas. You want to get that look now?”

“Might as well! Grump, up with you!”

Gobber stumped his way across the garden and Crush returned to land with a spritely bounce, lured in by the promise of **going?** Oh, yeah he would need a lift and…

“You have any interest in going to the bay? We’re just checking on Dreamer.” he offered.

“That's… the big one.” Ruadhán said warily, as Crush rolled into his hands.

“Yeah, but he’s nice. We’re just trying to help him out with something.” he said.

Ruadhán considered for a long moment, arms curling around his Fury’s neck, then he nodded.

“We'll be quick. Hey Dad, mind if we steal Pip?”

“Might as well, I'm sure she’d follow anyway.” Dad laughed, waving them off.

The Hotburple was scrambling to her feet already, and luckily still had her saddle, fit for two. Well, one and a half. But Eret didn't miss the look of longing Ruadhán cast over Crush before he followed.

“A little later, tomorrow at the latest.” he promised, “Just need to let him get used to it, put it through it's paces and make sure nothing’s loose. Can't be too safe.”

For a moment Ruadhán opened his mouth to ask something, maybe even argue, but he resigned himself to climbing up Pippin’s back and settling on the edge of the saddle.

“Just popping down to check on Dreamer, Gobber thinks we can reclaim the iron from that cuff.” he announced, “Not  _today_ , but we’ll take care of that out of everyone’s way.” 

“We’ll have lunch waiting!” Cass called back. Oh, the way he smiled...

 _Gods_ it was so good to have his husband back. But there was work to do, Gobber was ready to go, and Pippin was huffing to get his attention. **Coming** he huffed back, vaulting up and scooting forward to leave more room. Pippin could fly plenty smooth so there wasn't really a need to hold on, but Ruadhán still gripped a handful of his shirt and that… That little _hint_ of trust spoke volumes.

He didn't expect to find Vega hanging around Dreamer’s ice throne, but he’d also half-forgotten she’d come at all and felt a little guilty for it. Simurgh too had perched in the ice towers, and hooted a **greeting** as they slowly buzzed by to find a spot to land. The commotion drew Dreamer’s gaze up from the beach below, and an eager sparkle rose in his eyes as he met them with a shower of snow.

 _“Cold!”_ Ruadhán squawked, ducking for cover behind him.

Dreamer perked with interest, peering closer as Pippin and Grump perched on high, flat pillars of ice.

 **Hatchling?** **_New_ ** **hatchling,** Dreamer thrummed, gentle as a stream.

 **Yeah and… this one’s ours,** he allowed himself a small, selfish smile. It's not like a dragon would understand the politics of the truth anyway.

That got an even deeper hum, **yours? But hatchling is grown, different colors..?**

 **He's a** **_lost_ ** **hatchling, so we’ll take care of him now,** best to leave it at that, **now, how about we get all that metal off you? Our friend probably can.**

 **This?** Dreamer tilted his head, glaring at the remaining iron shackle, **take… off?**

**If we can. Is it alright if he looks. We won't do anything yet.**

Dreamer readily **affirmed,** inching closer to Grump and Gobber to put the cuff in easy view.

“All yours Gobber!” he shouted, then looked back over one shoulder, “Doing okay?”

Ruadhán’s eyes were wide as saucers, but he nodded, “He’s  _really_ big.” 

“Yeah, but he’s done hurting people. Now I've gotta go say hi to someone else, I forgot about her yesterday. She may look scary, but she’s nice too.” 

At his asking, Pippin stretched and fluttered leisurely to the shore. Simurgh raced to meet them and Vega watched, gold eye gleaming in the sun. Their Hotburple didn't so much land as _flop_ into the sand, groaning in satisfaction as the heat soaked into her belly.

“Don't get too comfortable missy.” he rolled his eyes, “Morning Vega! Sorry I missed-”

“Who is this?” she interrupted, moving to look around him.

“Ruadhán.” the boy said for himself.

Vega stared like she’d seen a ghost before looking to Eret for answers, but he could only give a half-hearted shrug. He wasn't gonna talk about the kid like he wasn't here. But Simurgh wasn't content to wait for anyone and galloped around his rider, skidding to a stop with his nose buried in Ruadhán’s curls. **Sweet,** the dragon purred, **sweet…** but **sad.** **Little one hurts.** Simurgh nuzzled the boy’s brow and cheeks with the barest touches, breaths blasting his curls back and Vega wilted.

“Oh… my child, I'm so sorry.” she murmured, reeling Simurgh back.

He could feel Ruadhán shrug and fold in on himself, like he was trying to hide from all the attention. Damn, they shouldn't have dredged all that back up… Stupid, so _stupid._ Sensing the trouble, Lil’ Crush dove down from on high to press his head into Ruadhán’s side, then hands, chuffing **mine, kin,** while he licked his human’s fingers.

“Already? Well, you've made quite the impression.” Vega continued, eyes sparkling with her growing smile, “His kind don't bond lightly you know, you must have a pure heart.”

Ruadhán shrugged dismissively, “I'm just me.”

“And what an _adventure_ that is bound to be.” Vega mused, sweeter than he’d ever heard.

Gobber was still hard at work, so he turned Ruadhán and Crush loose and as soon as they were out of earshot Vega swooped in like a damn hawk.

“Eret, how in the _world?”_ she practically gasped, awed and giddy all at once, “Just- _already?”_

“Ease up a little, we barely know more than his name.” he said firmly, “And, obviously he’s lost his parents. This is supposed to be some sort of test like everything else and… we’re letting him set the pace. Still learning ourselves, you know?”

Vega nodded absently, gaze lost on the boy and dragon romping down the shore.

“Anyway, sorry we missed you before, been a bit distracted with all this. And on top of everything else, there’s some political mess all around us that we have to try and smooth over.” he sighed, raking his hair back, “Just sounds like a lot of talking for now. Hopefully.” 

“How bad is it?” Vega’s face fell, properly stoic and grim.

“Can't say… I just don't know enough. The old caliph was killed, now two men are claiming the throne and we don't know what they're expecting from _us._ So, our dragon mail is getting a first trial, to Cordoba and Seville.” he explained, as best he could.

“I must say, all the sane stability of Berk was starting to spoil me.” Vega sighed, head lolling back, “But this is hardly surprising. Cordoba has a surefit of bleeding peacocks that fancy themselves men. They prance about, kill each other, then it all goes quiet for a year or two before the dance starts again.”

“That's no way to run a country.” he found himself sneering.

“Like I said: peacocks, all of them. At this point you and your husband could stroll right into the palace and crown yourselves caliph as easily as the rest of them. I dare say that might be an improvement.” she smirked at the thought.

“Why would we do that?”

Vega blinked slowly, owlish and disbelieving.

“Surely you realize the power you have.” she pressed, “A dragon army at your beck and call? You could have anything from any _one_ you wanted.”

Eret reared back, gut clenching from the surge of _revulsion_ that left bile on his tongue.

“The _hell_ would we do that for?” he snarled, “Make ourselves as bad as everything we fought against? Go back on our word to everyone? Do you _hear_ yourself?”

Vega looked up with a wry smile, gold eye sparkling, “Just checking.”

“What.”

“Dreamer you call him, yes? Well, he’s shown us many things, from all those years with that monster.” Vega sneered, “Power does strange things, even to good people. I had to hear in your own words that you were still yourself.”

He shook his head slowly, breath leaving in a slow wheeze, “You're a strange egg Vega.”

“There are worse things to be.” she chuckled, crossing her arms.

Half a year in and he _still_ didn't understand this woman. But, he was supposed to be checking in.

“So, you settled in alright? Cass said Nimat offered you a place.” he asked.

“Oh, yes. That- that is all going well.” Vega shifted, almost uneasily.

He leveled a knowing look her way, “What’s wrong?”

“It's just… a little strange being in a full house again.” she mumbled, “With a family. I'm sure you understand.”

Oh. “Yeah, I do. Really hit me like a brick once it all sank in, after last time. And, that first week back.”

“Little Basira, she’s a _gem.”_ Vega’s smile turned tender, then something _more._

“Alright, out with it.” he sighed.

“I must confess… Nimat is lovely. I _know_ she’s married.” she held up a hand against any protest, “It's just a passing fancy, and it will be here and gone before I know it.”

Damn. A pang of sympathy left his heart aching, but Simurgh did all the work of comforting her. There wasn't exactly a surplus of single women around- Oh. Not a surplus no, but he knew of _one_ that could be arriving any week, or month. For now he would tuck that thought away, and they could play the sneaky matchmakers again when the time came.

“So, we should be able to get that doorstop off once we find the right help.” Gobber announced once they got back, “Get those hinges softened up and we can crack it open like a clam!”

“Good! We can start checking over the locals, see what their fire’s like.” Cass said.

“You’d best invite Basira, or she’ll riot.” Vega chuckled, strolling through the gate.

“Don't remind me, that child is a _terror.”_ Cass groaned, “We’re _never_ introducing her to the Thorstons.”

“Lunch first!” Dad laughed, hauling over a tray of drinks.

Ruadhán was content to perch on Lil’ Crush, testing the feel of the new saddle, the strength of the stirrups, his balance over the pommel… he really was a natural. The stitches needed one more check before a proper test run, and Datura made herself useful by pinning her brother down by the tail. Despite all those reminders, the Furies brought Ruadhán’s spirits right back to something… content, if not happy. It was a start.

***

Jarrah’s letter came that same afternoon and it was… concerning. There were more and more caliphate guards since he got back home, fortifying the city now that one of the contenders moved in, the brother of al-Nassim according to rumor. All the information was rumor, except for the soldiers chasing stories of dragons in Cordoba. _That_ Jarrah had seen for himself, and for now he avoided the attention. Something about the unsteady wobble of the text in those last lines betrayed the lie for what it was.

Cassian passed that information on to Naji of course, the emir would want to know. Temptation though it was, he couldn't just barge off to Cordoba and make his brother an even bigger target, the dragon-mail was dangerous enough as it was. He sent his reply with two Kites, one to return and one to stay, just in case.

_Jarrah, we’re doing all we can to avoid another war. Lay low, keep your head down, but if anything should happen you can tell the dragon to come find me. It will know what to do, and we can be there in a matter of hours. I pray for your safety, that it will not come to such an extreme, but know I will move heaven and earth if they dare raise a hand to you._

The Kites left once more, after the dull brown female knew good and well what to do there. Keep out of sight, hunt in darkness, only the rats and vermin of the home and streets, trust only his family and Ghadir’s. At least they would be swift.

By the end of the day they had a plan in place to free Dreamer, Naji’s saddle was so nearly finished, and they were just getting ready to leave for home when Affan returned. The _poetry,_ of course. Now, to corner him away and borrow a book or two…

“Cassian, what in the world?” Affan hissed as he was dragged inside.

“You still have your poetry collection, right? I've found myself in need of better words than my own.” 

“Since when did you care about-” Affan blanched, “Oh. Actually,  _please_ say no more.” 

His brother scurried off down a hall and returned with a few small tomes.

“I expect to get these back in the _exact_ same condition as they left.” Affan said, cheeks all rosy, “Though you’ll probably enjoy Abu Nawas the most.”

A spike of mortification hit as soon as the books fell into his hands. Where had his brother gotten poetry like _that?_ And _why?!_

“Will I need gloves to handle these?” he managed to quip.

“Cassy!” 

“Yes _Fefs?”_

“That's disgusting! You- out! Out of my house!” 

He cackled all the way with Affan batting on his shoulders, books secure under his arm until he finally burst out into the garden.

“Affan reads Abu Nawas!” he shouted, scampering to hide behind Eret.

“I'll kill you! I mean it!” his brother roared, renewing his pursuit.

So he kept running, past Vega with her brows lodged in her hairline and Enzo, who turned so fast he could’ve snapped his own neck. The shock that painted the smith’s face only doubled Cassian’s laughter. Oh _ho,_ was that news to the poor man? The drama this could spark, how _fun._

He giggled to himself all the way back to the Alcazaba, poetry tucked safely under one arm and his free hand clasped tightly in Eret’s. Lil’ Crush and Foxglove trotted along behind them, fighting for Ruadhán’s attention, smacking each other with their tails. They could sort themselves out, eventually. Hopefully. But his fingers _itched_ to open the first book, see for himself how and why Nawas had garnered such a reputation of drunkenness and debauchery. To think, Affan had been squirreling these away…

Dinner came and went, as delicious as the last, then they lit their lamps and sent Ruadhán to wash, following once he was done. There was something shockingly close and intimate about bathing by such low light, how the shadows flickered and danced over his husband’s skin, turned his scars to _gold_ … Even with the ache held at bay, he didn't quite have the spark for more lovemaking, since that entailed scampering off to the cove again. So, he contented himself kissing as many of Eret’s scars as he could, sprawling all over him in the warm water of their bath. From fingertips to many-times-skinned knuckles, pausing to kiss his ring once, twice, three times, then the pockmarks of old burns on his wrist, the deeper gouges dangerously close to the pulse in the crook of his elbow, a savage puncture through the meat of his shoulder, and a trail of kisses over the bridge of his collarbones, but there he paused. Eret’s breath hitched, ribs jumping first in anticipation then _pleasure_ under his hands when he pressed his mouth more firmly to the hollow of his throat.

“Hmm, what should I find praises for first?” he mused, nuzzling in closer, “Your heart, your eyes, the _glow_ that sets in when you've laughed so hard you're left breathless?”

“You sure we need someone else’s words?” Eret chuckled, dropping a kiss to his brow.

 _“You_ haven't heard proper poetry.” he countered, “Let's dry off, and get that wine.”

So dry off they did, and he stole one of Eret’s soft-worn shirts on the way to fetch his books and the bigger lamp. Strange how they were always full, someone must be topping them off. The books went on the bed, the lamps were carefully arranged next to the wine bottle and glasses on the side table, and he followed Eret’s insistent hands under the sheets. He took charge of pouring a measure of wine for them both, only a little since the night was still young, then pulled the first book into his lap. It was a small thing, barely bigger than his hand with only a stamped leather cover to protect the pages. But the calligraphy inside was neat, not even smudged, or sullied by dirt or oil.

“I'm afraid you'll have to do all the reading luv, can't make heads or tails of this.” Eret murmured, tucking close and resting a cheek on his shoulder.

“Yes, it _is_ a bit more complicated than runes.” he smirked into his first sip of wine, so rich and sweet, “Now, where to start… As fitting as these are, I'm not looking to romance my drink. How can one man write so much about wine?”

There wasn't much else to his taste in this volume, all drink and bawdy satire, so he took up another and the very first lines of a suspiciously well-worn page set his skin prickling. _Oh._ He read through the poem twice, pulse rising with every word before speaking aloud:

_I die of love for him, perfect in every way,_

_Lost in the strains of wafting music._

_My eyes are fixed upon his delightful body_

_And I do not wonder at his beauty._

_His waist is a sapling, his face a moon,_

_And loveliness rolls off his rosy cheek_

_I die of love for you, but keep this secret:_

_The tie that binds us is an unbreakable rope._

_How much time did your creation take, O angel?_

_So what! All I want is to sing your praises._

There was more, and more, so he kept reading and every line drew a new shudder, a new _thrill_ through them both. The same raw feeling that they knew so well, from a man centuries gone… it was liberating. Of course they weren't the only ones, now as then, but to _hear_ it, in no uncertain terms..?

“Yeah, I'm starting to see the appeal.” Eret said after a long yawn, “Not enough about dawn and sunlight though. Might have to break out pen and paper after all.”

He snorted, “There are many more poets yet, have a little faith.”

“You wrote a whole song for me, it can't be that hard.” Eret set their glasses aside, his smile lopsided and easy.

“I did, and it took _months._ Never much cared for poetry until you went and stole my heart away.” a half-drunk giggle slipped free, “You were a raider after all!”

“I suppose I was, and one that found the rarest treasure of them all.” his husband hummed low, kissing his shoulder where the collar of his stolen shirt slipped away, “Stealing the heart of a shadow takes some skill.”

“Yes, it did.” he agreed, sweeping up the books to get them out of harm’s way, “Such skilled hands, and tender eyes to lure me in, strong arms to hold me once I was caught…”

He wiggled down into the pillows, pulling Eret over him for a slow, sweet kiss. The thrill was just as strong and electrifying now as it was with their first, only two years past but it felt so much _longer_ , and it still set their hearts fluttering. Stolen gasps of breath, the gentle shift and mold of their mouths put a wholly different heat in their bones, no fiery _urgency,_ no this was something pure, unknowable, perfectly _theirs._ He sighed against his husband’s lips, dreamy and satisfied.

Morning saw the return of one Flutterkite with another letter, full of more assurances but little information. They would have to content themselves with that, there was too much to do. The port workshop had been secured, so they spent the day moving tools and supplies, organizing the new space, building a small forge and steam-oven outside and finally, rallying a team of dragons to see to Dreamer. Ruadhán had the whole Fury flock to keep him busy when he couldn't be much help, but Cassian still loathed to leave him to his own devices. Sure he was half a man now, he didn't need _brooding_ but… they shouldn't just leave him be all day either. Maybe he should apprentice with Gobber and Father part of the day, build up skills for his future. If nothing else, they could do that for him. Now, Dreamer was ready to _really_ get cracking at this thing…

It took hours of heating and quenching and hammering, chasing the weakness in the iron to finally break the shackle. Hundreds of tons of dead weight fell onto the beach like a crash of thunder and Dreamer reeled in shock from the sudden freedom. He shook and tossed his head for a good long while, then finally howled his **triumph** to the sky and dragons all over al-Mariyah answered, raising their wings in a jubilant salute.

“Well, that should do it!” Gobber preened, “Now, how to slice this up…”

True, the shear mass of the cuff was another obstacle. It needed parsing up before the Hotburples and Gronckles could work their wonders making dragonsteel, and they just didn't have the tools for that. Before he could think harder, Dreamer turned from his celebration, lips curling in a snarl.

 **_We_ ** **will break,** the dragon growled, **beware, make way.**

“Gobber, we need to move.” he gave the smith a push towards Grump, who was already scrambling to his feet.

They scattered down the beach on dragonback as Dreamer reared, bearing down on the shackle with all his weight so that even on sand, the iron shattered like so much crockery, weakened as it was by age and salt. Some pieces were still large, too large, but there were hundreds of pounds reduced to usable rubble. Dreamer gave the rueful pile one last contemptuous hiss, then relaxed in inches, sinking into the waves, kneading cool sand between sore paws, and finally crooned his **thanks** as his chin settled on the ground.

“Can we go see?” Ruadhán asked in a whisper, leaning close from Crush’s back.

“Of course. He's just resting.” he answered, urging Tyrian closer.

“We’ll start carting iron, shouldn't take long.” Gobber announced with a languid stretch, “I'm sure you boys have other things to do, your father and I can handle the shop.”

“If you insist. But we’re still coming by the shop tomorrow!” Eret shot back.

“Oh _off_ with you.” Father waved them away with a loving scoff.

Dreamer quietly watched their approach, mane perking with interest, then wiggling with **mischief** as he drew a breath and showered Ruadhán with a puff of snow.

“Again?!” the boy squawked, swiping the frost off.

“He likes you!” Cassian chuckled, dropping down from the saddle, “How’s your climbing? We can say a proper hello.”

There was a moment where Ruadhán froze, then gave himself a shake and followed at his side. He did need a boost to clamber up the first great spike jutting from Dreamer’s chin, but managed the rest on his own, scuttling up the steep curve of the dragon’s cheek to sit close to the great blue eye that sparkled with affection. Cassian was always a measure behind of course, just in case, and Eret followed in turn, settling where they could.

 **Little hatchling,** Dreamer crooned, pupils growing wide and dark, **little hatchling is brave, strong! Yes, a** **_good_ ** **hatchling for dream-friends.**

 **We hope so…** he sighed, biting his lip, **Dreamer, do you remember those big ships?**

He supplied a memory of the trading fleet, and the Bewilderbeast rumbled darkly.

 **_Yes,_ ** he hissed, **we remember. Heavy, hurt us, hurt many…**

 **Yes, they did. But they don't anymore. We fought them, we beat them,** **_we_ ** **are their Alpha now, and they may visit here again. Just those three ships, and they sail with their mates, hatchlings, they’re bringing things we need. Can you let them in?** he asked gently.

For a time Dreamer was silent, contemplative, before asking **how?**

**The trappers came, we tricked them well. But they caught Eret, he was hurt, so I fought…**

They told the story in turns, with word and memory, even Tyrian and Skullcrusher and Nightshade joined in. the battle, the aftermath, Ori and Dunni and Blue, Ragnar changing his ways for their sake… and Dreamer listened, eyes downcast as he thought.

 **We will let them in,** the dragon sighed, **but** **_after_ ** **we see, we must look.**

 **Thank you,** he went slack with relief, **I don't know when they’ll come, but we wanted you to know first. We didn't want it to be a shock.**

 **Dream-friends are kind,** Dreamer’s eyes shone with gratitude.

 **We try,** he gave the dragon a firm pat, **you've seen enough hardship.**

Ruadhán seemed to follow his lead, stoking pebbly scales until he reached one of many, many scars.

“He must've fought a lot…” the boy frowned, brows drawing tight.

“Yes. But most of those are from one man, and _he_ won't be hurting anyone anymore.” he sighed, trying to relax against Dreamer’s cheek.

“And, you were talking to him.” Ruadhán’s eyes brightened with interest.

“Yeah. He's different from the rest though, almost human. More… articulate.” Eret explained, “And we warned him about those ships coming back, how they aren't enemies anymore.”

“Oh. Those big ones? They were weird.” Ruadhán grimaced.

“Yes, we aren't terribly fond of them either. They've hurt many people and dragons, including Eret, Daura, Foxglove… But they've committed to a change, a life of peace, so we can't really stand in the way of that. One of them has a son your age, with a dragon of his own.” after the mess of last year, he was looking forward to seeing Ori again…

But, Ruadhán didn't seem too interested. Fair enough he supposed, these would be strangers.

“I think your mother is due a visit.” Eret nudged his ankle, “Maybe after a  _flying_ lesson.” 

_That_ got Ruadhán’s attention and he glanced between them with growing excitement.

“Alright, but you're wearing the lap-belt.” he rolled his eyes, “And we’ll climb down first, stick close.”

They moved slowly for Ruadhán’s sake, and more than once the boy caught himself on Cassian’s shoulders after slips and slides. Lil’ Crush was already waiting below, anxiously pacing in a tight coil with his eyes turned skyward to watch his boy descend. **Hurry, hurry!** the Fury begged, **fly!** We’re **coming,** he scolded, be **patient.** Crush heaved a mighty sigh, throwing himself into the sand as the rest of the Fury pack scoffed, but they couldn't hide a twinge of **envy.** Oh, poor things. Their time would come. But once they got down, and caught Ruadhán as he dropped, it was time to get started.

“Okay, now you're all secure, feet in the stirrups, belt’s tight?” Eret pressed, hands hovering.

Ruadhán nodded slowly, and Crush chimed his **agreement.**

“He won't be anything like the Gronckles.” Cassian warned, “Furies are stronger and faster by far, and they take off like lightning. But we’ll start slow, use the sea-breeze…”

He pulled Eret back as Crush lifted his wings, feeling the air before the first gentle flutter that gathered the wind below, enough to find more purchase with his tailfin and _rise._ Ruadhán whooped as the shore fell away and Crush wobbled for a beat, then two, before steadying himself and tilting into a smooth glide down the beach. They moved well and Ruadhán adjusted quickly after the initial shock. His balance was even, confident, his grip sure, and when Crush **begged** their leave, they granted it.

Then they were off, voices rising together as the rest of the Furies gave chase.

“Crush, c’mon!” Eret barked, and- perfect, Tyrian was already halfway to them.

The Rumblehorn slowly abandoned his post with one last glower up at Dreamer, and galloped after the Nadder so they could scramble up and follow after. The Furies slowed a measure for them and God, the _light_ in Ruadhán’s eyes… He sniffed, quickly scrubbing his cheeks. There would be a time to fawn, now they had to teach. Though, the boy was doing incredibly well even for a first flight- Accidents could always happen, he needed to be _vigilant_.

 **Gods,** **_look_ ** **at ‘im Cass,** even here, Eret’s voice trembled with affection.

 **I am looking,** he teased, **I never would’ve wished this loss on him but… maybe this was** **_meant_ ** **to be.**

**I know. And, maybe it was, I won't spit in the face of fate either way.**

They fell in on either side of the Fury pack, guiding them onwards towards home. This would have to be a short first flight, nothing wild either. There would be time for more. He reminded the Furies of that when they grumbled at his **request** to land, and Crush resisted longest of all. At least, until Skullcrusher **scolded** him. That had the Fury diving for the ground, sheepishly avoiding the Rumblehorn’s eyes.

“Can't go all-out just yet bud.” Eret laughed, beautiful and breathless as he dismounted.

“That- that was-” Ruadhán panted, flopping into Eret’s arms.

“Yeah, we know.” his husband’s smile was pure sunshine, and he could’ve wept at the sight.

“You did well.” he added, “I almost feel off Tyrian on  _our_ first flight.” 

“Wait, what-” 

“Cassian?!” 

The workshop door flung open, startling Lil’ Crush as Zayd stumbled out and sagged in relief.

_“There_ you are! Come get your dragons, they’ve been _eating_ all our sand!” his brother seethed, “And I don't even know how they got in!”

“Oh, I let them! Cassy, you have to show him!” Safiyah arrived to drag Zayd back in.

“Saffy, you did _what?!”_

“Relax, you'll love this!” 

He threw his head back to groan at the sky, “Great.  _Just_ great. Looks like we have work to do. How would you like a lesson in glassmaking?” 

Ruadhán shrugged at the offer, but followed anyway. As he thought, Crucible, Andarax and their daughter had piled up by the one running furnace, their firebladders full of melt ready to deploy. They perked at his arrival, the baby most of all, but he had to **scold** them for helping without him around.

“Crucible was my helper back on Berk.” he explained in turn, “Her kind melt sand for their fire, so she would refill my forge. So long as this is ready for work it won't go to waste, and if we can get the doors open enough, they can do the rest.”

“Oh.” Zayd turned to stare at the Wraiths, and they stared back, “That’s… alright I suppose. The forges aren't ready yet though, I was firing them for the morning.”

“They can wait ‘till then, and I'll come help. Now you lot keep _out_ of the barrels- Took, that means you too. Young lady, put that tongue back in your mouth!” 

“That's not her name!” Safiyah pouted, crossing her arms.

“I am _not_ calling her that.” 

“Say it.” 

“No.” 

“Say it.” 

“No!” 

“Say it you _coward.”_

“Fine!” he threw up his hands in defeat.

After a long moment of fighting the utter indignity of the name, he said it.

_“Tookles.”_ he hissed through clenched teeth, and Safiyah grinned smugly.

 **Me!** the little Wraith cooed, and Ruadhán snickered behind a hand.

“Oh yes, have a laugh, because _we_ aren't the ones that helped bring her into the world…” he huffed,  _“Tookles._ What kind of name is _Tookles.”_

**Me!** Took chimed again, **me!**

They found a rhythm to their days, between training and saddles and glass, taking Ruadhán to all of them in turns. The emir made time to hear their plans personally, instead of second-hand through Naji, who seemed keen to join in anyway. Jarrah’s letters still came and they tried sending messages on to the palace, but received no reply. He wasn't sure how worried that should leave al-Mariyah, but Eret made note of that in the first bundle of letters they sent back to Berk, telling of everything that had happened. They could send at least one more back with Snotlout and Safiyah, when they left in a week or two…

Ramadan came with the crescent moon and he didn't much enjoy the early mornings or late nights, but having Eret at his side in solidarity made all that bearable. Even the nagging hunger and thirst he could endure, as they poured all their energy into cleaning the local mosques and streets with the help of their dragons. They always made sure to pack a meal for Ruadhán, who was too young to fast even if he was a Muslim, and he sat quietly to the side to eat while they kept on working. Eret and Ru both stayed home when he left for prayers before dinner, since neither knew enough to follow along, but all that time together was doing wonders for the boy. Bit by bit, his shell was chipping open. Working with them, being trusted with so much, it was earning _them_ trust in return.

Which… meant it was time for an honest talk. It had to be now, not later.

After breakfast and morning prayers, they waited for Ruadhán to wake. He and Eret had spoken long into the night, planning for every possibility, what they would even _say,_ but he was still nervous. Eret took his hand under the table, squeezing gently and stroking his ring.

**We’ve got this Cass, just take it slow.**

He swallowed hard, nodding once as he watched the shaft of dawn light track down the far wall. Lil’ crush was already half-awake from their activity, so was the first to hear Ruadhán stir, stretch, yawn, and finally shuffle out to join them. But their nerves must've infected the air, enough for him to sense in moments and withdraw into himself.

“Sorry Ru, we just… thought it was time to talk.” Eret spoke first, “You're nearly a man now, you should have a say in where your life is going.”

That gave Ruadhán pause, and he slowly eased down into his usual spot with Crush’s prodding.

“What do you mean?” he asked, peeking out from under his hair.

“It's our duty to guide you towards the future, wherever that may lead.” he answered, “If you want to stay in al-Mariyah, we’ll help you build up what you need to sustain yourself. If you want to strike out on your own, we’ll teach you everything we know.”

“I'm only 14.” Ruadhán muttered, “What could I even do?”

“My brother was apprenticed at 12, and I've been making glass since I was 10.” he shrugged, “You're learning so quickly at the saddlery, and you could do well for yourself there. Or, we could secure an apprenticeship somewhere else.”

“I don't know… I've never thought about it.” Ruadhán buried himself in Crush’s neck.

“You don't have to choose anything today.” Eret said gently, “You've got plenty of time.”

The boy’s hands went still, “But, what about Crush? And Foxglove?”

His whole chest seized, and Eret’s grip tightened around him. It was too soon, but-

“They aren't ours to keep.” he choked, “They're family, not  _things._ Whatever comes, it's their choice as much as yours.” 

“But…” Ruadhán hesitated, biting his lip, “What about you?”

Despite himself, Cassian chuckled weakly, leaning harder on his husband’s shoulder.

“It's- it's not really about us. When you're a- a _guardian,_ what you want isn't as important as what a young person needs. It's our job to put you first.” 

Any protest was cut off by Lil’ Crush nudging under Ruadhán’s chin, his purr trailing into an imploring whine of **stay** that the boy wouldn't understand. The wide, pleading eyes might've had the same effect though, given how Ruadhán looked away almost… ashamed. No, no that wasn't what they meant to-

“I'll think about it.” Ruadhán sighed, frown deepening.

“There's plenty of time.” Eret said again, “Have some breakfast, and we’ll go for a spin before work.”

Yes, there were many things to work on… gifts for Eid, saddles for the guards, mail packs for the Flutterkites, and probably much more. At least there was a little more help around the workshop now, in addition to Ruadhán. A youngest-son of a carpenter, second sons of two leatherworkers, plus a widower and her daughter as seamstress, and maybe more as time wore on. Naji’s saddle was long since finished and delivered, and the shock of the gift had left the poor boy weeping. They’d spotted Qiana and Khayran taking their own leisure flights on occasion, so Naji must’ve taught them in turn… Heaven’s blessing on that boy, and his heart of gold. But, _saddles…_ They had iron aplenty, but wood was scarce and growing scarcer. There was some reclaimed from old broken furniture or timbers, but that could only go so far, for so long. With Dreamer’s help, they had the likes of Waveskippers and Eight Winds wandering west and south to keep watch for the traders. Traders… and maybe more.

Emir Khayran saw fit to call on them in the same breath as Uncle Isra and the rest of his advisors, late in the day but well before sunset. They were led to a deeper hall instead of the garden, to seats midway down a long table by their uncle. He recognized most of the faces here from that meeting after Drago’s attack, and they were certainly more grim now.

 **This doesn't bode well…** ice crawled up his spine.

 **No, it doesn't,** Eret found his hand under the table.

The emir arrived soon after with Naji at his side, both taking a seat at the head of the table. All murmuring ceased as Khayran laid a letter out on the table.

“Al-Qassim has spoken.” the emir said, stone-faced, “There are now  _three_ vying for the throne in Cordoba. Yahya ibn Ali is pressing his claim, and has already arrived in Málaga. Doubtless he’s heard the news of us like the rest, and I wouldn't be surprised if all three demand we act on their behalf.” 

He stiffened, and Eret drew a quiet, shaky breath.

“This is something I would like to avoid.” the emir continued, “Yahya is young and inexperienced, al-Rahman’s support is waning, and al-Qassim is set to secure Cordoba all on his own. If we merely stall the other two, the matter will be settled without further bloodshed. After all, it's not like we  _have_ a dragon army ready to ride.” 

There was a certain sly gleam to Khayran’s eye when he glanced their way.

“And what’s to stop Yahya from coming _here_ next? If he has ships-” an advisor piped up.

“We have dragons patrolling west and south already.” he said, “If anything bigger than a fishing boat hits the water, we’ll know. And we’ve dealt with armadas before, far larger and better armed than anything to be found here.”

“Imagine 60 of those trading ships from last year, all _prepared_ for dragons.” Eret added, “And we didn't have a Bewilderbeast on our side either. If he tries anything, one look is all it should take to get them turning around.”

“And if it doesn't? Well, I've intimidated bigger men into submission before.” 

“You kicked Ragnar in the _head_ Cass.” 

“Yes, and it was very intimidating!” Eret raised one brow in a perfect arc, “What? He's still  _alive,_ and he hasn't put one toe out of line since.” 

He didn't miss the bewildered looks around the table, on Isra most of all.

_“Who_ is this?” his uncle set a hand firmly on his shoulder.

“If you recall the _Lorenzo_ incident, he was at the party. One of the traders, great big wall of a man with red hair, and tattooed arms.” he smirked, just a little.

Isra’s face went slack, “How in the  _world-”_

“They had Eret in chains, that was their last and greatest mistake.” he shrugged, “I made sure at least one of them paid, Ragnar was just the closest.”

“Emir, council, I've seen this man.” Isra said, “I dare say the city is safe from just about anything.”

Brows rose around the table, but there were a few wry smiles to be found.

_“That_ big eh?” one man goaded.

“Taller than Eret and half again as broad.” Isra huffed in disbelief, “And you kicked him in the  _head?”_

_“Twice.”_ Eret said proudly, “Then there was that time he wrangled a half-mad dragon until she dropped! Poor Nightshade didn't know what hit her.”

“Hardly the time for flattery, dearest limpet.” he coughed, to hide the flush in his cheeks.

Isra cleared his throat, masking his laughter, “So, there’s a solid plan.”

“Our position is secure.” the emir agreed, _‘as we agreed’_ went unsaid, “But wings will certainly speed up the diplomacy that follows.”

“Al-Qassim has that _temper.”_ one official warned, “He may want to purge his court of any sympathies to al-Rahman, at swordpoint.”

“And that never bodes well.” another agreed, “If we  _politely_ insist on fair trials-” 

“When has Cordoba listened to anyone?!” 

“When has anyone else had dragons?” he cut in, almost hating himself for it, “We don't have to lift a finger. Speak softly, but let them see our strength. It could oppose them, or  _help_ them as they choose. I may be young, but in what I’ve seen _sane_ men usually take the easy path if pressed, even warlords. If we encourage stability first, real change may come in time.” 

All eyes turned his way, blinking owlishly before searching out each other.

“That is… sound.” the oldest man finally said, “And if al-Qassim makes Yahya his heir, succession will be back on the table and he would have time to learn, temper those impulses instead of taking the throne as he is.”

“And if he _does_ make a move on al-Mariyah, we could offer a little... hospitality _._ If he is wise and backs down of course.” said Uncle Isra, “Take that as an opportunity to show him alternatives, and maybe offer to fly him right to Cordoba.”

“I doubt even an impetuous youth would attack during Ramadan.” the old man said, stroking his beard, “Nevertheless, that watch from the sky should continue, as should all that… flappy business, with the riding.”

Cassian didn't take that remark personally, the man probably felt the same about any beast, as all old men seemed to.

“We had no intention of stopping.” he said, “On either count. Saddles are coming as quick as we can make them, the extra hands and space have been a Godsend. More wood will help, but that will come in it's own time. We’re also building up a stock of dragonsteel thanks to what we’ve reclaimed- and there's  _plenty_ still on the beach, anyone able is welcome to it. The smiths, armorers…” 

Another councilor hummed appreciatively, “We’ll rival Damascus in a matter of months!”

The chatter continued, straying enough to pull away and focus on his husband instead.

 **We’ll be keeping our promises Cass,** Eret soothed, **growling at this kid should be all it takes.**

 **Al-Rahman may fizzle out, if we can get the other two sorted… this can resolve mostly in peace,** he swallowed hard, **the quicker the better.**

 **Yeah… and we shouldn't tell** **Ruadhán too much, he doesn't need to worry.**

Dragons came to the fore of the conversation again, reports from all over the city. There were fewer mishaps than ever, nothing more than knocked-over awnings or broken shutters or startled donkeys. But on the other side the city was nearly free of rats and flies, and the flock went elsewhere to keep their waste off the streets. Even the old councilor had to concede that made them more tolerable than most beasts. But all their plans for trade would have to wait, until Cordoba was back in proper sorts. The right parties could still plan of course, for when the time was right.

“Well, that could’ve been worse.” Eret stretched hard, equally relieved to be home.

“Yes. At the very least, the emir is taking our conditions seriously.” he agreed.

“What happened?” Ruadhán burst through the curtains to his room, stumbling over Lil’ Crush.

He flinched, hesitating half a moment before answering, “It was just business, with the council. Nothing to worry about.”

The boy worried anyway, brow creasing deep.

“People seem scared, they're talking about Cordoba and invasions…” Ruadhán muttered, picking at his shirt, “And you aren't  _just_ saddle makers." 

Shifting still, Ruadhán’s eyes flicked to their armor in the corner. Oh. Oh _no._

“No, we aren't.” he agreed, heart sinking, “But we made the emir  _swear_ that dragons would never be sent out for war. If anyone comes here, we’ll flex and posture and hope they back down. We’ve gone up against far worse and come out victorious.” 

“And if they don't? That's nothing a little Nadder-napping can't solve.” Eret managed half a chuckle, “It's worked wonders before.”

That gave Ruadhán pause, and Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Eret’s first flight wasn't as glamorous as ours. Tyrian’s mother kidnapped him right off the deck of his ship.” he snorted, “And then dropped him.”

“Kicking and screaming all the way.” Eret sighed fondly.

“You're so _weird.”_ Ruadhán said, nose wrinkling in disbelief. It was rather unintentionally adorable.

“And you haven't even heard how _we_ met yet!” 

“Eret, no-” 

“Why not? It's a good story!” 

***

Eret and Cassian were… weird. Sometimes soft and quiet, sometimes loud and feisty as boys _his_ age, but they were always… thinking of him. They made sure he had regular meals and snacks even when they were fasting, and it was always things he _liked._ They must've been watching like hawks to figure that out in barely a week. And they didn't foist him off every day either, they made _time_ , even with the lessons and saddles and glass and fancy meetings. Time for him, and Lil’ Crush, and all their dragons, and they always seemed to know what he needed, if it was space or just, someone quietly _there_. Sometimes he did have to spend an hour or three on his own, or with their families, but it was never more than that and it was always for a pretty big reason. But he could watch the glassmaking, or work on saddles and re-practice his Norse… and they were all nice. There was a lot of giddy excitement at first, but that wore off within the week and most of them calmed down. Not so much for Eret’s dad, but at least he never got too pushy. He thought he'd met everyone by now, but was still left wondering about Cassian’s father. They spoke like he was still around, but he was conspicuously absent and Cassian never brought it up. So, he didn't either.

Safiyah and that weird shouty-man had to leave not even halfway through Ramadan, back to a place they called Berk. That was where most of them had come from it seemed, and the whole dragon thing started. But they were going all on their own and that made Eret and Cassian sad. And _scared._ There were plenty of hugs and sniffles to go around, and promises to write, and they were off.

To the north. The mysterious places where they spoke Norse, where his own father came from, and his mother. They’d never said _exactly_ where, but there were a few hints in all their stories. Black cliffs made of stone trees, rolling green hills, cold mists and endless, snowy winters… Did they have family up there? Would they know him, if he could find even one village? Maybe, but he didn't have the first clue where to look. Eret and Cassian had offered to teach him how though. Would that be enough? And, if _he_ left… would Crush and Foxglove want to come? He couldn't do it without them, but they were like family to the riders, _especially_ Fox. And… it wouldn't be fair to take them away.

It was one of those rare days he was left at the saddlery for the morning, Cassian and Eret had some errands. But that was okay. Gobber was foul-mouthed and fun, Big Eret had a million stories that were so familiar sometimes it hurt. The work was tricky; leather was tough and needed so much _done_ to it but it was… satisfying, and not so hard that he couldn't listen around. There were a few new workers, but they were all a little older, with their own families and friends. They were okay, he just didn't know how to wedge himself into a conversation. So he stuck by Big Eret, tracing out new pieces for a Featherfall saddle. Easy stuff, and he was actually _good_ at it. The planning, the measuring, getting the most out of every hide… he just wasn't strong enough to do the cutting yet. Fine by him.

“-and _that’s_ why I'm never going around the west side of Angleland again!” Big Eret concluded.

“Why'd you even try?” Gobber huffed, “Ye _already_ knew the way!”

“I thought it was a shortcut!” Big Eret threw up his hands, “At least the view was better. All that green, and those weird cliffs that looked like bricks and timbers-”

 _It was built by giants_ _Ruadhán, laying bricks of black stone too deep for any man to tear up. Ah, but the sea grew angry and swept over their hard work-_

“Were they black?!” he blurted, almost throwing himself over the table, “The cliffs!”

“Ah, yes?” Big Eret looked at him funny, “Mostly? Some parts looked a little red, and there was all that seaweed. Why?”

How many black-brick cliffs could there be up north? What if-

“My Mum told me stories about where she came from, cliffs just like that.” he finally answered, “Have- have you ever seen something like that before?”

Big Eret’s brows did that sad-pinch, and his lips pressed tight.

“Once or twice, way further north than that. But no one lived around those.” he said, “I might've seen smoke there, but we were too far out to say for sure. That island was plenty big though, and we saw proper villages everywhere else.”

His heart raced, so fast it left him dizzy, but Big Eret and Gobber shared a look.

“Been thinkin’ about what you want then?” Gobber asked, gentle but almost _sad._

...oh. “A little… But that sounds far away.”

“It's a few days shy of Berk I think, we go by the other coast of Angleland to get there. Might take… eight days?” Big Eret shrugged, “I'm sure we’ll be going home at _some_ point after the boys’ year is up.”

Ruadhán knew an offer when he saw one, and nodded slowly. He’d be a year older, bigger, stronger, smarter, and he wouldn't have to bumble around alone. Maybe they would find something… or maybe nothing. Then what? Turn around and go back to al-Mariyah, fly off on his own…? If everyone else was going to Berk and that was only a few days more, it couldn't hurt to go see it for himself. Right?

Eret and Cassian were good at making deals, maybe it was his turn to try.

They said nothing more and he got back to work with his mind churning, planning…

He forced himself to wait until dinner, once he’d had time to think and the world settled down. Lil’ Crush had invited himself in hours ago and now dozed in his lap, tail twitching like a cat’s. That was comforting, but Cassian sensed something wrong, he always did, and spent the whole night sneaking looks between him and Eret. Time to speak up.

“I thought about it.” he said too quickly, “And I want to make a deal.”

Eret and Cassian paused, suddenly nervous, but they didn't interrupt.

“I was talking to your dad, and he _might_ know where my mom was from. He sailed by it I mean, and he says it's on the way to Berk. I- when _you_ go back, I want to look there for… something. Anything.” he shrugged, averting his eyes, “And after, if there’s nothing… We can keep going to Berk, and figure something else out. If that's alright.”

He lost steam towards the end, but Cassian looked fit to faint. Again.

“That’s- of course we can!” the man said, strangled like he was choking on air.

“We’ve got some good maps, we can look over the details tomorrow.” Eret added.

“And a change of scenery would be nice, the same old way is getting boring.” after a beat, Cassian’s smile fell, “You… might not find what you’re expecting.”

“I know. But anything is better than nothing.” he shifted, drawing his knees up to his chest, “She talked about that place a lot, so just seeing it is enough.”

They both looked like they wanted to speak, eyes all sad and hurting…

Especially Eret. Didn't he say they were alike somehow? What could they possibly have in common? He still had his dad around-

But he’d never mentioned his mother, not even once like she was just somewhere-else the way Cassian did with his father. Was she gone too? That was the only thing that made sense.

“You… know what that's like, don't you?” he dared to ask, meeting Eret’s eyes.

The man looked like he was falling, mouth open like a fish before he nodded his head, brows knitting tight. He must've hit the mark.

“She was gone before I could even know her.” Eret said, looking up again with wet eyes, “I got lucky though, Lantana knew her- _us_ for a few years, so I've been able to see a little. It's not the same but… it's not nothing either.”

Oh. No wonder he was so committed to being his- a guardian. _Not_ his dad, either of them. But if Lantana saw Eret grow up… how old was she? And, that really did make Lil’ Crush like family too, just as much as Foxglove. Should he really be wedging himself in this deep? If he found his mother’s family…

“I meant it, when I said you could ask me anything.” Eret said again, “You don't have to face everything alone like- like I did.”

“We can be whatever you need.” Cassian added, “We’ll make no demands of you. Set some _rules_ maybe, simple things like ‘don't stay out all night’ but… you don't have to stay if you find a new path. And you don't have to-”

He couldn't finish, and tried to steel his expression to hide… something. But Ruadhán could make a guess and the relief was instant. _They wouldn't make him call them- that._ Even if… that was what _they_ wanted. Cassian said himself it was their job to put him first, so they wouldn't make him change. Wouldn't make him forget, _replace_ his parents. He took a slow breath, willing his heart to slow.

“Thank you.” he managed to whisper. Lil’ Crush purred, rousing and rolling up against his back till he almost fell on his face, and that finally got the riders laughing again.

The next morning was the start of a glass day, apparently they had a lot of work to catch up on. It was easy with the Wraiths helping, refilling the forges with molten melt every few hours as Cassian and Zayd and even Ali worked and worked. He didn't know enough to join in, so he kept Tookles occupied after pounding the fresh lumps of colored glass down into chips and shards. Tooks was a _weird_ dragon, and so much smaller than the rest. Which made sense since she was a baby, but a dragon even _being_ a baby was hard to imagine. Then there was her funny wing, all crooked like a granny’s hand. At least it didn't seem to hurt her, or slow her down any. Which, was it's own problem.

“Tookles, stopit!” he grunted, wrangling her about the neck, “You're gonna _break_ something-”

The Wraith did stop, but so did Crucible and Andarax, and all at once their heads whipped towards the big doors. Eret and Cassian stopped too, setting their tools down.

“What's going-” Zayd started.

A door flung open and Affan stumbled in, wide-eyed and breathless as a gaffed tuna.

“Ghadir’s pregnant!” he blurted, too loud and warbly.

Everything went quiet, even the furnaces faded out. And they all stared.

Cassian broke first with a loud whoop of laughter that rattled the ceiling and then he was off like an arrow, sweeping his brother up over his shoulders like a sack of grain, spinning round and round as they both laughed, loud and giddy as boys half their age. Eret rushed to save them both from themselves and Zayd was right behind him, helping wrangle Affan down and then they all crushed in close, choking on little hiccups of wet laughter. The dragons, inside _and_ out were going wild too, and Tookles bucked in his arms, nearly throwing him. They were having a baby? Oh, right. They _did_ just get married, that meant kids most of the time. More kids, to go along with Ali and Basira and Feryal, and those other two he’d only heard of.

The small door to the house proper opened just behind him, but the others didn't hear it. A man peered out, so much like Isra he thought it _was_ the captain at first. But… no, he looked more tired and grey, wrinkled, and he didn't have a proper beard either. That made him Cassian’s dad, didn't it? They didn't look much alike. Tookles chirped and that brought the man’s eyes his way, just a peek at first before he whipped around hard, starting and staring. Awkwardly, he waved over Took’s neck, but the man’s brows only furrowed deeper in confusion.

“Father!” Affan shouted, “Ghadir, she- we’re having a baby! We-”

Everything ground to a halt when Affan paled, face falling in shock.

“We’re having a _baby._ ” he repeated, barely above a whisper, staring into space.

Affan promptly collapsed, and Cassian barely caught him under the shoulders. The laughter only doubled then, but their father… he wilted, and started to turn away.

“Father.” Cassian said, in an unfamiliar tone. Almost… tired?

That made the man stop, more like a flinch, and when he looked Cassian gestured towards Affan with a little tilt of his head. Their father inched close like a wary cat, all slow steps as Affan recovered, eyes rolling in his head. What was it with this family and fainting? They quieted down soon after, to little chuckles broken up with sniffles, and words he couldn't hear. No wonder Eret and Cass were so excited… it's not like they were gonna hope some parents dropped dead so _they_ could have a baby. They just… had him.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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This holiday of theirs, and everything leading up… it sure was something. He didn't really get the point of the fasting and the prayers, couldn’t you just pray whenever you felt the need? He had questions, anyone would, but Cass hadn’t so much as blinked wrong anything on Berk, so he wasn’t about to start here. All the work they found for themselves was enough to ignore the nagging hunger and thirst, and the meals that followed it all once the sun set were _well_ worth the wait. And between the work and all the time with family, it was like something old was healing around Cassian’s heart, though he wouldn't ever admit it. Whether it was being home, having Ruadhán, Affan’s growing family, something else or all of it together… it didn't matter. So long as his husband was happy, Eret could weather anything and for now, they had peace.

At least, aside from Enzo getting himself kidnapped by a Fireworm Queen not even a week into Ramadan. He _knew_ there was one down there somewhere, slinky bastard. They got him back in one piece of course, and even let Affan play the dashing hero. Enzo couldn't tear his eyes away for _hours_ , ha!

A few days after Safiyah and Snotlout left, they got their first letters back from Berk, a big stack of folded scraps of Andalusi paper all stuffed into a different Flutterkite’s pack. They were from everyone; Astrid and Hiccup and Valka and the other riders, some for them and others labeled for Dad and Gobber, so he got those where they were meant to go and read the rest for Cass. The biggest letter was a reply to what they’d sent, all their plans for the city but also the messy, giddy scrawlings about Ruadhán, and that was just as much a shock to their family abroad as them. But, their congratulations and advice, however misguided, was enough to put tears in his eyes. There was news of Finna, her growth and antics that were sure to get worse, Stormfly missing her favorite toy, the Rumblehorn herd’s visits, the crops growing well and guest house coming along nicely… Gods, he missed Berk already.

It all came to an end with _Eid_ . The way Cass explained it, it was like Midsummer and Snoggletog all in one. Just, in chains of family parties instead of the whole city at once, with everyone visiting back and forth. And, a big trip to the mosque that him and Ruadán would sit out, for the best. They stuck out like sore thumbs at the best of times, it would be even worse there where he was _completely_ out of his depth. But, that left them time to sneak the gifts in: _dragonsteel,_ and lots of it. In the last month they’d made kitchen knives for Nimat, Daniyah and Ghadir, new glass tools for Zayd and Reza, and similar things for Affan’s silverwork. Jarran and Inara’s gifts would have to wait, but with all the leather and silk and dragonscale around, the kids all had something too, little bracelets and hair-ribbons. Ruadán helped all the while, at least where he could, bless him. They had a gift of their own for him- later, later, he could wait half of one more day. Plus, there was the emir, Naji, Qiana…

It was going to be a long, long day, and from the very start they were put to work packaging up foor, enough for a proper meal for every home that needed it. That was part of the whole tradition, Cass explained, those who could gave alms and food to the poor, and they’d be helping the emir do just that. He’d never really walked the outer edges of the city, where the homes were small and plain, but that was where Ruadán had lived. They were expected to go, but… it was up to Ru if he wanted to join them. It might still be too fresh.

But, _gods_ how Ruadhán had grown, ever since he laid that deal of his on the table. All those chips in the shell were full-blown cracks now, and the _real_ Ruadhán was starting to shine through. The dry wit fit to stand against Gobber’s, the raucous laughter just starting to crack at the edges as his voice broke, the little flickers of a smile that flashed crooked eyeteeth… and Lil’ Crush could be there, when old demons surfaced. They’d heard it, once or twice, the muffled sobs and night terrors, and it hurt even worse than the brand to leave him there. Because the power was still in Ruadhán’s hands, to call on them, and that gave him time to think about what he could possibly say. What _he_ needed to hear at that age. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was how soon they’d all come together, soon enough to spare Ru years alone with his thoughts.

But, now it was time to get ready. He returned with Cass to wash and change into something clean for the big march around the city. And, he made the offer once they were done.

“We’re going to the north side, to pass all that out.” he said, casual but… gentle, “You're welcome to come. Or, to stay.”

Ruadhán only hesitated a moment before answering, “I’ll come. Just need my sandals-”

Then he scrambled to his room, muttering as cloth rustled and unseen items were tossed about behind the drapes.

 **I know we’re trying to give him privacy, but we** **_really_ ** **should be making sure he’s keeping his room clean,** he sighed, shaking his head.

 **Yes, we can broach that tomorrow,** Cass leaned harder into his side, **are you sure about this?**

**Won't know until we try. He’s decided, so we’ll help with whatever may happen.**

They joined up with the procession on the main path, falling into step with the porters and carts and donkeys. This whole event was expected, so it was just a matter of passing out the packages once they got there. Naji, Khayran and Qiana would be passing out money themselves at the head of the line, which struck him as a little off, but who was he to question the emir? The streets weren’t terribly wide though, the only dragon they let come along was Lil’ Crush, for Ruadhán’s sake. Well, some Squidgens trailed along behind them, but that was nothing to worry about.

The Alcazaba was just about the most western point of the city, so with a little backtracking they got to the main avenue and could work their way straight east. Eret was left pulling down parcels from the cart to hand them off, to Cass and Ruadhán and an endless train of assistants. They in turn handed the packets on with a blessing, to families and widows and eldest children, some too young and many very old, but they were all grateful.

As they forged onward, he did notice Ruadhán growing more… antsy. Looking around, fidgeting, staring down every side road on the search for- home. Cass sensed it too.

 **If he bolts, I’ll follow,** he warned, **and, I’ll try not to get lost.**

 **I’ll make excuses if you can't, keep your eyes peeled,** Cass caught his hand, squeezing once.

It finally happened a few streets later. Ruadhán slipped away with Lil’ Crush hot on his heels, chirping **no, stay! Bad!** He managed to blut ‘be right back!’ on his way after them both, edging out and through a gap in the crowd. It was spectacularly easy when he was head and shoulders above them, that really hadn’t been a joke. On the street proper, there weren’t many people and Ru was only moving at a brisk walk, so he followed with care. There was no need to rush, or crowd the boy along. Not for this. And, he had Crush at his side, nothing was gonna happen.

But, Ruadhán didn't go much further. At the next little side street he turned, moving even more slowly now, and Eret could see his hands shaking. He stopped at the corner, leaning around to take a peek, and his heart plummeted. Ruadhán had come to a stop, fist half-raised to knock on a particular door… but he hesitated once, twice, before letting his hand drop. Lil’ Crush leaned hard into him, prumming **concern** as his rider started to slump-

“Ruadhán?!” a young voice shouted.

Boy and dragon both started, honing in on a rush of footsteps just out of sight. Three more kids his age stumbled out into the street, gawping like fish.

“That's a _dragon_.” the tallest girl said, nervously plucking at her braid.

“Oh, yeah. He's with me.” Ruadhán shrugged, and Eret could _hear_ the smile on him.

“Where’ve you _been?”_ the middle boy scrubbed his eyes and sniffed, “We went looking and your house was just empty!”

Ruadhán hunched in on himself, leaning harder on Crush, “Mom got sick, and they took me to that orphanage by the potter’s huts… after.”

All three faces fell, and at once they swarmed him, paying no mind to the Fury.

“How’d you escape?” the youngest boy asked, once the sobs and sniffles died down.

“I didn't. I sure _tried,_ but they always caught me.” Ruadhán huffed, “But… someone took me in. they’ve been teaching me how to ride, and make saddles n’stuff.”

“What?!” 

“When did _that_ happen?” 

“Who could’ve-” 

“Guys, hold on- slow down!” Ruadhán waved his hands about, “Just, one at a time!”

The rabble went quiet but their eyes stayed wide as saucers.

“This was like, a month ago, a little more. And…” a nervous scuff of the feet, “It's the dragon riders, the ones staying here. I've been living in the fort.”

The trio, they _had_ to be siblings, shared long and disbelieving looks.

“You're making that up.” the middle boy pouted, crossing his arms.

“Am not! Crush is one of their dragons! And where’d I get a _saddle_ if I’m lying?” 

Crush preened at that, arching his neck proudly.

“But, why?” the girl asked.

Ruadhán shrugged, “Well, they can't have kids. I guess I just got lucky.”

 _I got lucky._ That stole the breath right from Eret’s lungs and he had to squeeze his eyes tight to stave off the itch of tears.

“I _still_ don't believe you.” the girl said, quirking an incredulous brow.

That little- calling Ru a _liar?_ The _nerve._ Indignation prickled hot across his cheeks but… they were just kids, they didn't know any better. And he could prove his- Ruadhán right.

He had to retreat a few steps first though, and clear his throat to shake the tremors in his voice.

“Ruadhán?” he called, but not too loudly, “Ru, where’d you go off to?”

It was Lil’ Crush that leaned out, chirping **here!** for him to follow.

“There you are!” he made a show of sagging in relief as he rounded the corner, “Can't stay too long, we’ve gotta finish what we started- oh. Friends of yours?”

Ha, the _shock_ on their little faces.

“Um, yeah.” Ruadhán’s smile dropped, just a fraction, “They were my neighbors, and… this is where I lived. It sounds like someone else moved in though…”

“They did, about three weeks ago.” the girl said softly.

Ruadhán nodded once, slow with resignation. But before he could slump any further, Lil’ Crush prummed, pressing into the boy’s chest. **Here, no sad,** the Fury pleaded. Oh, if only he could hear you…

“We can come back tonight.” he offered, and Ru nodded again.

“Sorry guys, I kinda ran off in the middle of something. I'll see you later.” 

One by one, Ru saw them off with a hug, and the youngest boy sniffled again.

“You _better_ come visit.” the girl demanded at her turn, punching Ruadhán in the shoulder as he pulled away.

“I just said I would!” Ru groused, dodging another swipe, “Mimi!”

The girl huffed, eyes shining-wet, “We  _missed_ you stupid.” 

“I know, I- I’m sorry.” 

Lil’ Crush said his goodbyes too, and that left the trio utterly starstruck. But, they had to go and Ruadhán followed after one last wave over his shoulder. He set a slow pace, and gave Ru a little nudge once they were out of earshot.

“You could’ve come visit.” he said gently, “You don't have to leave your old life behind,”

“I wasn't… ready to come back.” mumbled Ruadhán, “Seeing someone else in my- our home, it hurts. Maybe not as bad as I thought, but… yeah.”

“You're free to come up here, when you're not busy anyway. That's not a pass to blow off work.” he wagged a finger, but only playfully, “And- no joyrides with Lil’ Crush. If they want to fly, they're coming to the beach for proper lessons. That's the only thing I'll have to be firm on, we promised to keep everyone safe.”

“Fiiine.” Ru drawled. But, a certain spring had come back to his step.

He smiled, and let that settle a moment before _goading._

“So, Mimi’s _cute.”_

“Ew!” Ruadhán shot him a look of disgust, “She’s just my friend!”

“I'm only teasing!” he snickered, “It's a rite of passage, I had to suffer it too! And if you’d asked Dad’s old crew, they’d swear I fancied every barmaid north of the Shetlands! I wouldn't hear the end of it for _weeks_ after every stop at port.”

Ruadhán looked at him strangely, and after a moment, “But, did you? Like any of them.”

“Nah.” he shrugged easily, “Never fancied _anyone_ until Cass. He’s the only one for me.”

That garnered only a quiet, thoughtful hum. Huh. Well, he got one crack in, that was enough prodding. They did have a jog a bit to properly catch up and fold back into the procession, and Cassian’s **relief** breezed through him like a sigh. They were so nearly done, and once they got to their parents’ house Cass would go with his family, which would leave him and Ru free to start cooking. There was so much to make after all…

But first, _presents._ Isra arranged the delivery of gifts to the emir and his family, considering they were _knives_ and it just wouldn't do to go waving those around. They were small, practical belt-knives, but no less beautiful for it, and a matching set too! The handles and sheaths were simple, but the real beauty was in the blade, the ripples and whorls of light and dark iron… Right, time to hand those over. The rest of their gifts were stowed in a small wicker basket, save the last and most secret of them. That would wait till just before bed, when it was just the three of them. Gifts for Cass, and Ru, and probably some for _him_ hidden somewhere. His husband wasn't anywhere near as slick as he thought he was.

“So, did you want to go visit on your own, or..?” he asked along the way, question and offer all at once.

Ruadhán hitched his basket a little higher, frowning as he thought.

“Nah, we can all go.” he finally said, “Their parents’ll want to meet you before they agree to lessons. But, can we bring the Furies?”

It took far too long to reply. ‘We’, he said _we._ That shouldn't put his head spinning, but here he was, dizzy and fighting a fool’s grin.

 _“Yes.”_ he choked, and quickly cleared his throat, “Most of them anyway, don't think they'll all fit. Lil’ Crush, Datura, Capri, maybe Mira too.”

 _“Yes.”_ Ru cheered to himself. Oh, Freya save him.

“I mean it though. If you want to teach them, it'll be with one of us around.” he said again, just firmly enough, “Flying is dangerous enough as it is, and we don't want _anyone_ getting hurt. But they look like smart kids.”

“Yeah. Mimi- well, Amira-” Ruadhán paused, then laughed under his breath, “Amira, Mira, that’s kinda funny. Anyway, she’s the oldest, a _little_ older than me, but we all grew up together. Idris and Timin are her brothers.”

“We could help you get some little gifts together tomorrow.” he offered.

“Oh, uh-” ducking his head, Ru looked away, “That… that would be great.”

“What’s to be all shy about? You're getting better every day!” he swung closer to jostle the boy with his elbow, “I mean it! You can practically make a whole saddle yourself!”

“I’m not _that_ good…”

“Eh, you're getting there. And that's what counts.” there was no fighting his smile now, “Woodwork is the tricky stuff, and there's not much to practice with. We can do more of that once Ragnar and his rabble get here, whenever that is. Can't wait to give them a fright either, and I’m sure Dreamer’s eager to teach them who’s boss.”

“Those… those were the old warlords, right?” Ruadhán asked, suddenly nervous.

“They were, but we don't have to worry about all that anymore. They're probably more scared of Cass than they _ever_ were of Drago.” he snorted.

That got a proper confused stare, “But, why? Drago was bad, wasn’t he?”

“He was, the _worst_ of the worst. But there's nothing on this earth more terrifying than the fury of a _good_ man. They've already been shown mercy once and they aren't the gambling sort, so I think they’ll behave.” he offered a reassuring smile.

“What _happened?_ I know they attacked Berk and trapped dragons, but…”

“Dragons, and me.” he sighed, “We missed one of their weapons, Crush got lassoed, broke free, and I fell. I was too hurt to fight back, so they caught me and tried to use me as a shield. That's when Cass and Nightshade fell out of the sky and saved my hide, beat Ragnar within an inch of his life, and ended the whole war.”

Ruadhán had gone pale by the time he asked, “How _bad_ were you hurt?”

“Eh, my shoulder dislocated, wound up with an _awful_ lot of bruises, but the armor took the worst of it. You can still see where we’ve patched it up.” he answered easily. 

“Oh.” Ruadhán croaked, throat bobbing as he swallowed, “That- that could’ve been worse.”

“Wish I could have seen their _faces_ when it happened, but they rushed me back to Berk as soon as they could.” he continued, “I can live with that though. The second those Sickle-Scales landed, I knew everything was gonna be fine. If Cass sets his mind to it, he can move heaven and earth.”

He met Ruadhán’s shy glance with an easy, earnest smile.

“I know he can be quiet, but don't doubt for a _minute_ that he's here for you too.”

The boy nodded once, shifting the basket in his arms again.

The rest of the night was an easy rush of cooking, eating, mingling with neighbors, visits from Uncle Isra and Affan and Ghadir… oh there was no doubting the glow in her smile, Astrid was the same even this early. They had to be careful of course, it still _was_ so early, anything could happen. But all of it, how close and intimate and _alive_ the night was, it set his head spinning with something he couldn’t really define. Their gifts, when the time came, struck the room silent with awe, and the crush of embraces that followed nearly smothered him. But _Ruadhán_ joining in… that's what got the tears flowing. He sniffled, turning to bury his face in Cassian’s neck.

It was late when they finally made for home, exhausted but so _happy._ Their visit to the old house on the outskirts had to be cut short, with promises to return once they got the parents’ approval, but that one little visit had Ru walking on air. Lil’ Crush, Datura, and Mira rode that high with him, so **happy** to be meeting new people, and young ones! But after one last surprise, it was time for rest.

Huge flocks of Fireworms filled the sky, lighting the way as they feasted on insects that still swarmed between buildings and around animal pens. The little beasties were really working wonders, with summer in full swing the bugs would otherwise be swarming thicker and thicker during the day. They walked slow to enjoy the sight, gathered close with Cassian against one arm and Lil’ Crush under the other, carrying a drowsing Ruadhán over his back. It was calm, mostly quiet, save for the bursts of song and laughter through open windows, and they were content to soak it all in. _Something_ about this night left Cassian glowing from the inside out, and Eret basked in that all the way to the gate, through the gardens and little streets to their rooms- home. Cass coaxed a Fireworm inside to light the lamps while he opened the screens for Lil’ Crush, and the rest of the Furies stayed to pile in with Lantana.

 _“One_ more thing before bed.” he caught Ru gently by the collar before he could go far, “Go on and-”

He stopped, staring at the small woven basket left conspicuously on their table. At Cass’s questioning look, he shook his head.

“Not me luv. Must be…” he wracked his brain, but only one prospect seemed likely.

“The emir.” his husband finished.

They should've expected it really, but still. Gifts, from _the emir._

“Alright, you sit.” he gave Ru a nudge, “And I know you've got something squirreled away, go get it.”

Cass departed with a fond scoff, and he fetched his own surprises from under the cushions, but left them out of sight just a moment longer as his husband returned with something behind his back. Ruadhán slowly brightened and Lil’ Crush peered over his shoulder as, together, they set a bulky bundle out on the table.

“We thought it was about time you got the trappings of a proper rider.” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady, “And it should fit for a good while, thanks to Snotlout.”

Slowly, with shaking hands, Ruadhán pulled at the wrapping, picking the knot open and tugged the flaps apart. The Fury-scale vest inside practically glowed in the lamplight, and a set of matching goggles sat right in the center.

“Couldn't get _all_ the scales from Lil’ Crush, but there’re plenty of green Furies.” he was practically babbling, “The goggles can adjust a bit, so they aren't too tight…”

Ruadhán finally looked up, eyes wide and shining-wet.

“But, I-” he stammered, as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Ruadhán.” Cass’s voice strained, aching with- he couldn't call it anything but _love_ **,** “This is a gift, but know it's a _promise_ too. No matter what comes, whatever you need… we’ll be there.”

“This-” Ru sniffle, scrubbing his cheeks until he could manage a wobbly grin, “This is great.”

Cass sagged against his side, weak with relief as his own heart lodged in his throat. Crush cheered in his own way, and nudged the goggles closer. So, Ru gave those a try and Eret took that moment of distraction to press his own gift into his husband’s hands.

“Just a little something.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Cass’s brow.

 _“Eret.”_ he breathed, pulling the ribbon through his fingers.

It was just a long strip of purple silk, carefully hemmed and studded all over with tiny rainbow-Fury scales, perfect for holding back the long coils of his hair.

“It's beautiful.” he was granted a kiss in turn, “Now, for yours.”

Two glasses emerged from behind Cass’s back, so fine and delicate he hesitated to even take them at first. They were tall, fluted like a datura blossom and the clear glass was speckled through with color, a whole range of greens and blues.

 _“Damn_ Cass.” he grinned so wide it hurt, “You’ve outdone yourself by miles!”

“Zayd taught me a few tricks, and… Reza too.” Cass shrugged, “And-”

He paused, glancing across the table only to dissolve into spluttering laughter.

“Ruadhán, you- you've got those on upside-down!”

“Oh. _Thought_ they were fitting funny…”

That basket was still waiting though, and the anticipation was too much to resist. He pulled it over, removed the lid, and they all stared. An intricately carved box of many-colored wood sat on top of a pile of white cloth, shirts maybe? It couldn't be that simple. Cass moved first, gently lifting the box out, cradling it in his hands for a long moment before easing the lid off. The inside was cushioned with blue silk, to protect three silver rings and those… well, they were a bit more simple than he expected. No gold, no gems, the band was just plain, growing wider where the top went flat like a coin, and near as big. There was Andalusi script there, quite a lot of it, which of course he couldn’t make heads or tails of.

But Cass’s jaw went slack as he took one up to read it properly.

“It's- we’ve been given _titles.”_ his husband swallowed hard, “Master of Dragons, Steward of the Skies, First of the House of the Serpent…”

Well, that clearly meant something, and there were _three_ of them. This must extend to Ruadhán too… once he grew into it anyway. Khayran was _that_ confident?

“So, what’s all that even about?” he asked, taking another ring to test it's fit. _Suspiciously_ good, a lucky guess or something more?

“It's an official title, we aren't just _here_ and doing this, and the middle bit-” Cass laughed, a little deliriously, “Those are our ‘lands’, the whole of the sky! That makes it ours to protect and… the House of the Serpent is our lineage, a _legacy.”_

“But, why?” Ru piped up, craning to look.

“I don't know. But, I imagine we’ll find out soon enough.” Cass let out a little puff of breath, “And this one must be for you, in time. If it's this big, I think he intended for you to… grow into it.”

As the box slid across the table, Ruadhán leaned forward to pull it closer, taking the last ring. It was too big of course, comically so, when he tried it on, so he turned it over and over in his fingers to study the inscriptions.

“You can take the box, to keep it safe in the meantime.” Eret said, “It's not something you have to think about yet.”

“Yeah…” Ru’s mouth pulled into a tiny frown, “That sounds like a big deal.”

“It might be, and he probably wanted Cass to have a little warning so he doesn't _faint_ again.” he snickered, “What? Oh come on, it's _kinda_ funny when you look back.”

Cass just glowered, face all ruddy as his lips gathered into a perfectly kissable pout.

“But, what’s all this?” Ruadhán stood, and pulled the first pile of cloth out.

It fell open in his hands, all smooth silk covered in… embroidery? And it wasn't a shirt either, it had the look of a mantle, long and narrow. They worked together to pull the folds open and it _was_ embroidered with dragons and rich patterns around the borders. Everything was blocky, geometric, but it was still obviously Light Furies and Sickle-Scales stitched in blue and gold and green and black.

 _“Wow.”_ Ru breathed.

“A mark of office, I’d wager.” Cass mused.

The other mantles were the same, one with the addition of Nadders and the other with Rumblehorns, all colored to match. Yeah, that looked pretty official alright.

“We’ll need proper cloak-pins, it’d be a shame to stick them up with a brooch.” he thought aloud.

He’d barely said the word when Ru bolted, throwing the drapes over his door aside to rummage about- _wow_ he really needed to clean- and then rushed back, falling all over himself.

“Um, like this?” Ru slowly held out a hand, letting his fingers fall open, “If that’s the right kind, then I’ve got one.”

He didn't take it, looking was enough. The curve of the pin’s frame filled Ruadhán’s palm, and the design was so very, very familiar, like intricately woven knots with the heads of wolves guarding the opening. The loose cross-pin was shaped to look like a spear, and it was clearly well-worn and well loved, it had to be an heirloom.

“Yeah, that’s perfect.” he finally said, “We may even need to bring that along to show Affan how it works, if we wanted some fancy ones.”

“Oh, Affan would _adore_ a challenge. On another day of course.” Cass chuckled.

Ru and Lil’ Crush yawned wide, and that was their cue to draw the night to an end.

“Alright, wash up and get to bed. We’ll get all this title-business figured out tomorrow.” he said.

“Okay-” Ruadhán yawned again, “Night.”

Boy and dragon retreated to their room, and he had just enough steam to tidy up and put all the gifts away, wash his face, and collapse into bed with his husband. They tangled together tight, pulse to pulse, so damn tired but _content_ beyond words. The future was only looking brighter.

The nightmare crept in like a fog, all indistinct impressions and clouds of emotion; fear, guilt, sorrow, guilt, so much _guilt_ I’m sorry, I'm so sorry-

 **Dream-friend,** **_wake up,_ ** **the hatchling cries!** the voice cracked through him like ice.

Eret shot upright, flailing until he fell out of bed and only the impact shocked him properly awake. Chest, heaving, he had to force himself to breathe, _focus,_ and that same nightmare-fog still hung in the air, rolling off… Lil’ Crush. But, this wasn't a dragon’s dream, no it- this was-

He kicked his legs free of the sheets and scrambled to his feet, to the curtained door, threw the drapes aside and stumbled over the Fury crammed in the small room. Ru was curled into a miserable, shivering ball, he whimpered-

“Ru? Ru, hey-” he reached out, fingers just brushing the boy’s shoulder, _“Ruadhán.”_

 **Distress** only washed harder off Crush, even as he slept and Ru cried out into his pillow.

_“Mum, no-”_

His heart clenched hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs, and he shook the boy more firmly, once, then twice, until his small frame bolted upright.

“No!” he wailed, batting Eret’s hand away.

They both froze, and after a beat Ruadhán sobbed, folding in on himself.

“Hey, hey it's alright, just a dream…” he choked out, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder.

 _“No.”_ Ru keened, “I left her, I left and I should've stayed, she _begged_ me to stay-”

“Hey, Ru- Ruadhán _look_ at me.” he pleaded, “It's _not_ your fault. You were only a boy, you still are! There's nothing you could have done.”

To hell with it. Rising higher on his knees, he wrapped his arms around the boy’s shoulders.

 _“It's not your fault.”_ he said again, voice aching and trembling, “We’re only human, and it- it was her time. But it wasn't your fault, I _promise_ it wasn't.”

Tears choked him, a sob wracked through his chest, and Ru… he sniffled, wiggled, and threw quaking arms around his neck, unbalancing him enough to fall back on his rear and drag Ru halfway off the bed.

“It's not your fault.” he whispered, squeezing that little bit tighter.

“I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry-” Ruadhán sobbed into his neck.

“Shh, it's alright…” he drew a shuddering breath, “You don't have anything to apologize for.”

“Bu-ut-”

“No, none of that. We can't change the past, but… we can heal for the future. Your mother wouldn't want this for you, I _promise_ she wouldn't.”

Ru fell silent, save for the blubbering sobs that still burst from him like hiccups. So, Eret soothed him as best he could, rocking gently and rubbing slow circles between his shoulder as tears soaked his shirt. He ached to the core, like an old bruise getting hit over and over with every beat of his heart, every pained sound that left Ru shaking, and all he could _do_ was hold the boy ever tighter.

“I’m here Ruadhán.” he whispered above the boy’s ear, “we’re _both_ here.”

“I miss her.” Ru croaked.

“I know. I miss my mom too.” he sighed, “But she’s not gone, not really. She’ll be right _here_ whenever you need her. Your dad too.”

He tapped the side of Ru’s head, then gently ruffled his curls. 

“And if you're afraid of forgetting? You can keep a journal, write it all down.” he added, “There’s no _right_ way to mourn, and there’s nothing wrong with missing someone you've lost. Life… its not always fair, we can't win every battle. But we can choose how we keep living after, and we want you to be okay. You _deserve_ to be okay.”

Ruadhán finally leaned back, nearly falling off the bed before Eret caught him, eased him up to sit properly. It was too dark to see, but he knew the boy’s face was bound to be all flushed and puffy and itchy.

“Sit tight a minute, I'll get you something to wash up…”

He had to navigate to the wash-stand by touch, but there was a rag by the basin and enough water in the pitcher to soak it. That should do.

“Here, this should help. Don't rub too much, let it sit on your eyes…” he passed the cloth over, and sat on the edge of the mattress, “Think you'll be okay?”

“Dunno…” Ru muttered, voice a froggy wreck, “That wasn't a nice dream.”

Wait. _The dream._ And Ruadhán seemed to be wondering the same thing himself.

“How- how’d you know? You've never… you know…” ‘come in’ went unsaid.

“Crush was living the nightmare too, and Dreamer woke me up-” his face fell, and it hit all at once, “Ru, they _saw your dream._ That- that was _my_ thing at first, dreams and names, talking, and the dragons all saw it coming. Ru, you're _like us.”_

Maybe it was the shock, or sleep catching up to him, but he was shaking head to toe.

“But… shouldn't I hear them too?” Ruadhán’s confusion was clear, even if he couldn't see it.

“Not yet, probably. Lantana could hear me months before it started working the other way around, don't know if the same was true for Cass. Probably was though. It was a pretty hush-hush thing until it happened to him, then me.” he forced a slow breath, “It might just take some time, but I'm willing to bet come morning, Crush is in for a shock. And, Cass too. We can walk you through it, if it's strong enough for them to hear already.”

Ruadhán said nothing, and flopped back into the sheets.

“Yeah, it's a lot to take in. But you should try to get some rest, you'll feel better for it.” he yawned, scrubbing one eye, “Are… you sure you'll be okay?”

He could feel Ru nod, quickly followed by a confirming hum.

“Alright. You know where we are if you need us.”

With great reluctance, Eret returned to his own bed where Cass hadn’t moved an inch. Really? So much for ‘not sleeping like the dead’. He sighed, adoringly, and crawled back under the sheets to fold over his husband’s back, pulling him close and nuzzling into his nape.

They had the luxury of sleeping in past dawn and well into mid-morning, but a dragon-yawn far too close to their bed shocked them both from their easy, floating doze. He levered out of the pillows, shaking his head and raking his hair back, and could only stare. Lil’ Crush had crammed and coiled himself into their little nook, on his back with his paws twitching around Ruadhán, fast asleep on his belly. Cass groaned and nearly spoke, so he pressed a finger to his husband’s lips.

 **Quiet, you'll wake them!** he warned, but quickly flushed with giddy affection, **gods,** **_lookit_ ** **them Cass, and he-** **_Cass_ ** **he’s-**

 _“Eret.”_ Cass slumped against his shoulder, “‘S too early.”

“He had a nightmare luv, Crush _and_ Dreamer saw it. They _saw_ it.” he gave Cass a shake, knocking their brows together, “The nightmare was bad, but… he let me help him through it. We both needed that, I think…”

“Hmmwhat?”

“Wh- Cass, he's a _dragonspeaker.”_

“Wassat?”

“...we’ll try this again later.”

***

Ruadhán was _one of them._ If Cassian didn't believe in a divine plan greater than the mind of man before, he certainly did now. This, it was _meant_ to be, surely it must? And what’s more, he’d accepted comfort, assurance, _love_ in the depths of his pain. Ru, if nothing else, wasn't pushing them away, and he would take anything they were blessed with.

But, Eid was here and nearly gone. There was time to meet Ruadhán’s friends properly, and their parents, even take them down to the beach for a proper lesson. The Furies _adored_ them, and the Squidgens too. But any delay they could expect from the upstart caliph was over, and they needed more patrols. By the Master of Ships’ best guess, any fleet from Málaga could cross the distance in three days, maybe four, and that was more than enough warning to have their defenses, and Dreamer ready. As the Masters of Dragons, that was _their_ duty, and they weren't about to fail their first test. Their flock knew well what to do, it was just a matter of teaching the rest how to circle and swoop and menace for pure intimidation. All on his own, Dreamer found an outcrop of rock near the center of the bay that would let him stand and tower in water otherwise deep enough to hide him completely. Of course, that would only work if the fleet aimed _right_ for that spot, but a finicky plan was better than none. Worst came to worst, the Bewilderbeast could make a spectacular entrance and circle the fleet like a shark. The ships would be of a middling size, straight-sided, with enough of a prow for Tyrian to perch without unsetting the whole vessel… it would just be a matter of finding Yahya in them.

“I don't like it Cass…” Eret muttered, long after the idea had been passed through the council.

“I know, but I wouldn't even think of trying if I could find another way. I won't get off Tyrian, I'll have you watching over me, and the Reapers will be poised to strike if he needs any convincing.” he laced their fingers tight, “With the show we’ll be putting on? I think Yahya will see sense.”

“Just… be careful.” Eret ducked close to kiss his brow.

“You know I will. Now, let's go make sure those suits still fit, Ru’s been _begging_ to see us fly.”

Yahya wasn't content to wait even one more day it seemed. Málaga was only a few hours away on the wing, so true to their word they knew the _minute_ those 20 ships set their sails and turned east. Three days then, and they would keep eyes on those ships all the while. Yahya was young, impetuous, eager to stay at the head of the fleet, and Waveskippers had eyes keen enough to scan every deck for their mystery man. There would be no surprises this time. 

“You're… sure you'll be okay?” Ruadhán asked quietly over his breakfast.

“Yes, very.” he offered a reassuring smile, “With ships that size, he _can't_ have more than 200 fighting hands. I’d wager he's not expecting a real battle.”

“Probably thought he could just walk right in.” Eret agreed, rolling his eyes, “Our best guess, they’ll get into the bay morning after next and we’ll have the whole affair settled before lunch. Think he’ll need a proper Berkian change of mind?”

Eret waggled his brows, and Cassian snorted into his drink.

“Don't tempt me, my love. Now hurry up, if we’re celebrating your birthday early let’s do it _properly._ ”

It was time. The fleet was in the bay now, heading straight for their trap where Dreamer and the sea dragons lay hidden in the deep, while the rest of the flock waited on land for the order to fly. He and his husband fastened their last bits of armor, checked their helms and weapons and saddles one more time, and left their new home with grim resignation. Ruadhán was to stay with Father and Gobber, though he was none too happy about it, and the city was… quiet. Like a held breath. Their dragons trailed after them, winding through those turns to the main road-

There the emir was waiting, with Naji and Caduceus, and Uncle Isra and Vesuvia.

“Well, I see what you mean about fearsome figures.” Khayran cracked a wry smile.

“The tusks are a more recent addition, on the whims of my sister.” he shrugged easily, thumb brushing along one of the false teeth on the jaw of his helm.

“Indeed. Well, it goes without saying, but Yahya would be best left alive and unharmed, if he’s willing to concede.” Khayran said with casual ease, like they were discussing the delivery of bread, “And it's not for lack of trust that I send Isra with you. I need eyes on this whole affair that are used to reporting.”

“That’s fair. Just stick by me Uncle, I'll be circling above to let Cass do the talking.” Eret said, “Dreamer’s got eyes on those boats, so it's just about time to move.”

Khayran nodded, “Escort them to the docks if they surrender. If they don't…”

“If _Yahya_ doesn’t see the error of his ways, we’ll show him.” his grip tightened on his helm, “Take him for a little flying lesson, to drive the point home. If that works, we’ll return him to his ship and  _then_ escort them over. If not… I suppose we could bring him right here.” 

“Yes, that should work. Go swiftly, with a clear head.” Khayran reigned in a sigh, or something more.

Naji too seemed to fight the urge to speak, leaning hard against his dragon’s neck.

“We’ll be back in no time, don't worry.” Eret said, and Naji softened a little.

 **Coming, coming** **_closer_ ** Dreamer warned again.

Skullcrusher and Tyrian made themselves ready, and Vesuvia nudged into Isra’s shoulder, urging him up. One by one they set themselves in the saddle and powered into the sky, **calling** just their flock to them. A staged show of force would make a far stronger impression, so the rest could wait until they needed Dreamer. They fell in together, Stormcutters and Furies and Rumblehorns and Reapers and Sickle-Scales, over the Alcazaba walls and out to sea, skimming low to hide in the heat-shimmer over the waves. The fleet was less than a mile out now, so close to Dreamer’s rock. With _just_ the right timing, they could spring the trap as they pleased.

 **Little false-Alpha is almost here,** the Bewilderbeast rumbled, **too bold, so small…**

 **Yes, but I will challenge him first. When I call, you can be as big and scary as you like, and summon everyone here. We shouldn't need to fight, just put him in his place. It may even be** **_fun._ **

**Careful, close, scare, don't hurt** rippled through their flock, more instruction than command. Sails were visible now, just a _little_ closer. Vesuvia wavered, still hanging off Skullcrusher’s right wing as she thrummed her **uncertainty,** but the Rumblehorn was quick to **assure** her.

 **Moment of truth,** Eret’s voice came, trembling faintly, **please, be careful.**

 **I will my love, I swear it. Now, let the fun** **_begin._ **

At their mark the dragons surged higher, like a living wave, and the meager fleet spread out before them with _one_ ship conspicuously leading. Just to be sure, he bid Tyrian to circle that boat with the Reapers flanking him. The men below screamed and scattered as much as they could, looking helplessly to the skies, all save _one._ Lantana picked him out a little better; young and falcon-sharp with short cropped curls and the shadow of a beard, with some hard, calculating _gleam_ in his eye.

 **Well, there he is. I'm going in,** he warned, and Tyrian dove.

They swooped in fast and broke hard to land daintily on the prow, weight settled and wings still half-raised should they need to get airborne again. Oleander, Amanita, and Scorpion kept close, circling the mast to watch their father. But the crew was gathering their wits, and parted in a hurry to let Yahya forward. Yes, with that finery there could be no doubt.

“Welcome, to al-Mariyah!” he shouted for all to hear, arms spread wide,  _“You_ must be Yahya ibn Ali. I've heard of what happened in Cordoba, and I can only offer my condolences for your loss.” 

He was sincere in that, which seemed to put the man off guard for a breath.

“But, I must confess…” he made a show of scanning the fleet, “We weren't sure if we were welcoming  _guests_ or not. I surely hope there's been some misunderstanding.” 

Yahya’s otherwise handsome face turned dark and stormy.

“Your loyalty was to my _father,_ not al-Rahman and certainly not my _uncle.”_ he hissed, “I'm here to hold your emir to his oaths!”

“We haven't picked any side.” he shrugged, “Al-Rahman was here and gone in a flash, we  _never_ supported him. And as for you uncle, it's our thought that you have something to learn from him. What do you have to lose in delaying your rule by a year or two, _easing_ into your responsibilities instead of taking it all by storm?” 

Yahya scowled, but a few military men behind him seemed to consider.

“Any path you choose, our dragons aren't yours to take, and they'll _never_ be an army.” 

“You call _this_ an army?” Yahya tried to scoff, but his voice tellingly cracked.

“Oh, this is just the welcoming party!” he grinned behind his helm, and **called.**

He could **feel** Dreamer stir below, one great pulse of his tail got him to the rocky mount where he clawed up and _surged_ like a mountain from the sea, shaking the great weight of the ocean from his body. Dozens of other sea dragons joined him, riding the waves to roll around the boats while a great cry echoed from the city as the hundreds of dragons there took to the sky. It was only seconds of sprinting flight, but soon they circled with the rest and their Alpha drew a long breath and roared like a hurricane.

_“This_ is our army!” Cassian shouted once the din settled.

Yahya and his men had gone cotton-white, slack-jawed and _terrified._

“Now, I'll ask once more: are we welcoming _guests_ or turning away enemies?” 

One of the generals ducked close to whisper in Yahya’s ear, and slowly he squared his shoulders.

“I _will_ press my claim, and hold _you_ to your oaths.” the man said, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Then you leave me no choice.” he made a show of sighing, and **called** , “Scorpion!”

The Reaper squealed with **delight** and folded into a stoop that sent the crew scattering, leaving Scorpion free to pluck Yahya from the deck with practiced care and ease. His sisters peeled off to give chase and Tyrian clucked a **proud** dragon-laugh at the upstart’s screams before doing the same. Amanita and Oleander snapped at Yahya’s heels as they caught up, but their father **scolded** them away to make a little more room. He had to speak to the man after all. Foxglove and Nightshade fell in for good measure as they broke for open sky, and Cassian faintly heard his husband directing the flock higher up and away. Now, for the _fun_ to begin.

“This can stop any time you like!” he called as they drifted closer, “We really don't want trouble you know. If you can cool your head I'll take you to talk  _sense_ with the emir, get all this straightened out. We could even fly you to Cordoba!” 

“Un _hand_ me!” Yahya seethed, thrashing uselessly, “You will  _pay_ for this!” 

“With all respect, I _really_ won't. If you take a look around, I think you'll find _I'm_ the one in a position to make demands.” his grin grew wider as they spiraled higher, higher, higher, “But if you insist, I suppose  _unhanding_ can be arranged.” 

Realization flickered to horror in the split second it took to **ask** Scorpion to drop his prize. But, Cassian wasn't about to be an inconsiderate host, so he set himself free from the saddle and jumped after, **calling** on Tyrian and the Reapers to follow. Yahya was flailing wildly, screaming as the wind beat the breath from his lungs but Cassian kept still, watched the ocean draw closer and finally, when the man went limp with resignation, he grappled him close by fistfulls of his fine tunic.

“The skies are _mine_ boy, you have no power here!” he snarled, voice booming in his helm, “So what say you? Peace, or  _oblivion?”_

For a long moment Yahya was frozen, stricken with terror, and finally his face crumpled, eyes screwing shut as he cried,  _“Peace!”_

_Works every time._

Amanita plucked Yahya from his freefall by an arm and a leg, easing sweetly back to level flight while he wrangled onto Tyrian. They hadn't gone terribly far, all things considered, but they still had to swing by to deliver the good news.

 **Our friend Yahya as come to his senses my love,** he called, practically purring with satisfaction, **I promised to take him to the Alcazaba, if you'd like to bring the fleet in.**

 **Have all the fun why don't you,** Eret scoffed, but relief still washed off him in waves.

 **Little-Alpha is weak,** Dreamer rumbled, shaking with mirth, **he must** **_grow_ ** **for a challenge.**

**Yes, I think he's learned his lesson. We’ll take over from here Dreamer, thank you.**

Most of the flock scattered to follow the Bewilderbeast home, but enough stuck around to haul the boats in or watch from above under Eret’s guidance. Good… but Uncle Isra would kill him if he left alone. So he **called** to Vesivua and tilted closer as she pulled alongside, pushing his faceplate back.

“He’s in a _much_ more agreeable mood now Uncle, and I offered a lift to the Alcazaba!” he shouted, “Eret will manage the ships.”

“You didn't say you were going to _drop_ him!” 

“What? It _worked_ didn't it?” 

They slowed to let Isra forge ahead and warn the emir of the slight change in plan, but that would give Yahya a moment to gather his wits too. Hopefully he wouldn't have another change of heart once he had solid ground under his feet. Nightshade rumbled, drifting slowly under the captive princeling to eye him skeptically. **Runt** she finally scoffed, but her children protested with **fun,** makes **fun** sounds! Cassian just chuckled and urged Tyrian down to the wide court, before the gates of the keep. He quickly dismounted and **called** Amanita down, **slow, slow, careful-** now **drop** him.

Yahya fell the last two feet with a strangled scream, landing right in his waiting arms and there he froze, eyes slowly training on the lenses of his helm. Damn, this kid hardly weighed a thing. When he remembered how to breathe, Yahya squawked and flailed out of his grasp, only to founder on shaking legs and collapse on his ass in the dust. There he sat, panting, and Cass just considered him. Probably shorter, slighter for sure, and not a scar or blemish on him.

“What _are_ you?” Yahya wheezed, still staring at his unblinking mask.

“Master of Dragons, Steward of the Skies, First of the House of the Serpent.” he rattled off, with a grin evident in his voice,  _“Who_ I am is a different question.” 

Yahya kept staring as he unbuckled his helm, pulled the leather cowl down, and shook his hair free. Damn was this all stifling, the sooner he could get out-

“Cassian!” someone- _Naji_ shouted.

The Reapers scattered to make room for Caduceus and Yahya wheeled to face the newcomer, barely getting his feet under him. Naji only spared him the barest glance, nudging his dragon closer and Yahya tottered in place to watch-

His eyes were wide as the moon, glittering in the morning sun as his face went slack.

Pure, protective _instinct_ prickled up his spine like ice. _Oh no you don't-_

“Cassian, Isra said- Oh.” Naji finally took proper stock of their guest. “Hi. Anyway, I'll go get Ruadhán! Father is coming to take over, then you can go get freshened up.”

‘For a meeting’ was well implied. But, wait he shouldn't be leaving, not now!

“Naji, hold on a minute Ru will be fine-” too late, there they went, “That boy…”

“Who was _that?”_ Yahya rasped, still utterly startstruck.

“That was the emir’s _son.”_ he bit out, that prickle settling in his fingers as they brushed his knives, “And if you so much as  _look_ at him the wrong way, I'll skin you alive.” 

Somehow, that didn't faze the man much and he almost sneered, “Didn't take you for a boy-chaser. The emir must be  _very_ fond of you.” 

_Rage_ pulsed red-hot, indignant, and it took a Godly effort to pull his hands off his knives.

“That _‘boy’_ is as a nephew to me. You best watch your tongue, before I withdraw my offer of council.” he snarled, storming close and forcing Yahya back, step by step…

Until he came to a stumbling stop against Nightshade’s unsheathed tusks, arching desperately away as Cassian towered, _loomed_ above and locked eyes. One shuddering breath, then two, and Yahya surrendered, gaze dropping almost demurely.

“That's a good lad.” he smirked, satisfaction welling deep, “And I'll have you know I chase  _men,_ not boys, and only one on this miracle of creation is worthy.” 

As if summoned, Skullcrusher roared to announce his return, and Cassian spun away before Yahya’s head could collide with his. Hah, the fool, skittery as a crab. He sauntered over to meet the Rumblehorn where he came to a rest, and offered a hand to help his husband down. It wasn't needed of course, but he could _feel_ the upstart’s eyes on them both, and Eret did confirm he’d gone slack-jawed again.

 **Do I** **_want_ ** **to know?** Eret rolled his eyes, inside and out.

 **He's a right prick is what he is,** there was no hiding his disdain, **had the gall to call** **_me_ ** **a boy-chaser after going all mooney over Naji.**

 **He** **_what._ **

**Oh don't worry, I made sufficient threats to his person,** coy mischief sweetened his smile, **why don't you play silent-and-mysterious for now, see how much** **_fear_ ** **we can put in him.**

 **A small comfort,** Eret rumbled, standing straighter and squaring his shoulders.

 **The emir is coming to collect our ‘guest’, then we’ll be free to get out of this and join the meeting. And Naji went to fetch Ru,** he recounted, **ah, here they come.**

The gates were opening now, allowing a procession out with Khayran at his head. He drew Eret along, walling off any escape and they watched the resignation set in as Yahya’s shoulders slumped, eyes turned glassy…

“No need for _that.”_ he scoffed, “You aren't a prisoner. But if you want to be a caliph worth your salt, you'd best learn to temper that impulse to pick fights wildly out of your favor.  _And_ you can't be the mule that calls the donkey stubborn.” 

That got Yahya’s nose wrinkling in confusion. Oh, poor sweet thing, he didn't even notice? The little snake wasn't getting anywhere near Naji, regardless. But the emir was barely a stone’s throw away now, looking more grim than he’d ever seen.

“Yahya ibn Ali ibn Hammud. I'm afraid we are quite unprepared for your _visit.”_ Khayran said pointedly, “But you must be tired after such a journey, and we have much to speak about. We’ll send an escort to your council once they're ready.”

The princeling relented, joining the slow return to the keep while Uncle Isra lingered and he only relaxed when the gates closed, slowly scrubbing his face. Well, no one seemed _too_ cross.

“I'm getting too old for this…” his uncle groaned, “You two clean up, and I'll walk you back, see if we can't get to the bottom of this mess.”

“Shame you didn't get to drop him a few more times.” Eret growled, working out of his helm.

“Dare I ask?” Isra didn't even look up.

“I caught Yahya going all moon-eyed over Naji, warned him off, then he tried to get _snide_ with me.” a sneer pulled at his lip, “I put that brat in his place, and I'll be keeping a very,  _very_ close eye on him.” 

“Well, the emir will appreciate that. But as a guest we can't menace him _too_ much.” 

“I know Uncle.” he sighed, “We’ll get-”

“Eret, Cassian!” Lil’ Crush joined the cry, hooting **here, back!** as he swooped in.

Ruadhán was suddenly _there_ in a rush of footsteps, hurling his whole body weight at- at them _both._ He choked on any reply he could’ve made, stepping into Eret’s side as Ruadhán squeezed all he could, and they folded around him in turn.

“Toldja we’d be fine.” Eret sniffed, breaking into a laugh as he ruffled the boy’s hair.

“Nothing to worry about now, we just have a bully to tame.” he added, “And, there are some meetings, we posture as our new titles demand…”

“And they'll be waiting for us, so let's scoot home.” Eret finished, “We’re _okay_ Ru.”

“Right, yeah.” Ruadhán huffed a shaky little breath, but squeezed them once more.

Isra and their dragons followed along, but waited outside as they filed in and started stripping off armor, all the way down to the undersuits. They could do the rest in the washroom, and hurried for that while Ruadhán slipped behind his curtain for… something.

 **The way that brat acts, I’m not sure we should be bringing Ruadhán around him...** he sighed, and started on Eret’s laces, **tempting though it may be.**

**Well, Khayran didn't ask, so I think it's safe to let him sit this one out.**

**Until we’re sure Yahya can behave,** he agreed.

They finished in a rush, stripping down and rinsing off, fixing their hair with his crystal ties and dressing in their odd motley of styles. Berkian dragonscale and trousers and sword-belts, with Andalusi long tunics and sandals and their dragon-mantles, with rings on each hand, polished bright. It was time to brave the new world of politics.

“You stay tall, mysterious and handsome, see if we can't leverage that.” he smirked, combing a lock of his husband’s hair back into place, “Idiot doesn't even know what he looked like.”

“I'm almost impressed he didn't soil himself.” Eret snorted, “But that's just as well. Not sure he’d leave this meeting with all his teeth if I tried talking sense to him.”

“There’ll be a waiting list before the day is out, I’m sure.” he sighed, “Alright, let’s-”

“I'm ready! Sorry, hair was a mess.” Ruadhán scrambled out of his room, batting the drapes aside.

Any protest died on his lips at the sight of the boy’s smile, the _spark_ in his eyes, and the too-big ring on it's chain over his own mantle and vest. Oh, oh sweet mercy.

“No, it's fine.” he managed to say, but still reached out to fix a curl or two.

And Ruadhán rolled his eyes, but didn't move away.

Even Isra must be getting a bit impatient, so they hurried along and **called** a few dragons to follow; Lil’ Crush and Foxglove for Ru’s sake, plus Scarab and Lantana, and Nightshade for good measure.

“Is this necessary?” his uncle asked, clearly not meaning it.

“We can't let Yahya forget where he is now, can we?” he smirked, catching the twinkle in Isra’s eye.

Vesuvia joined them past the gate, happily knocking heads with Fox and Shade in turns before rolling under Isra’s arm to walk at his side. It looked like the garden was their destination, and as they rounded the path they found Caduceus perched on the high wall, oozing **contempt** for the newcomer. Looks like he was right about the waiting list.

“Now, Ruadhán, this is very important.” he said, gentle but firm, “You'll need to sit quietly, no matter what you hear. This man doesn't have one shred of tact in his body, so doubtless he’ll say something foolish. _Again._ But, we shouldn't need to do much, this is the emir’s to handle now. We’ll speak if spoken to, and take the time to listen and learn.”

The boy grinned at that, standing taller and squaring his shoulders. Yes, he was learning well, growing sharp and keen as a whip with how much he absorbed from the world around him, not unlike himself at that age. Ruadhán, he was a _miracle._

The garden went silent as they entered, all the advisors turning from their chatter at the long table one by one, some concerned but most subtly _smug._ Looks like all his hard work had stuck, and Yahya was indeed sitting quietly at Khayran’s right, beside… Naji. Damn. But a whole row of seats was still open directly opposite, so Isra took the first, he followed to the second, Ru the third, and Eret sat last, by the Master of Ships fittingly enough. But from here they could keep an easy eye on Yahya, and their dragons settled close behind them. And the games had already begun. The little upstart couldn't tear his eyes off Eret, whether for shock, horror, or _interest_ he wasn't sure, but Yahya watched without a single blink, throat bobbing as he swallowed. His tawny eyes drifted eventually, flickering briefly with confusion over Ruadhán but… a _ha,_ Yahya didn't have the spark to look at him.

**_Interesting._ **

**Well,** **_he’s_ ** **a character,** Eret sniffed, **but damn, you sure did a number on him.**

 **Indeed,** he practically purred, **a pity such a sweet face is wasted on him. Can't be more than… 20?**

**Pretty beard-y for 20.**

**Jarrah’s came in that early-**

“Now that we can begin…” Khayran said, stopping their silent conversation, “It seems we can welcome Yahya ibn Ali  _properly._ Perhaps a tour is in order, once your men are settled, or a lift to Cordoba if you prefer. It's hardly three hours on the wing, or so I hear.” 

Yahya frowned, biting at his lip, “Cordoba may not be ideal. I’d sent a messenger ahead, to arrive today with a declaration for… my uncle.”

Cassian stiffened, an icy prickle of apprehension crawling up his spine.

“A message saying _what.”_ the emir turned stony.

“...that I was coming here, to rally support.” 

He let out a long, shaky breath that could have, _should've_ been fire, and Khayran looked to him.

“The caliph’s men were asking after dragons.” the emir said, not a question.

“And it won't take long for them to pin down my brother, if they haven't already.” he ground out.

“You had a contingency, yes?” 

“We did, a dragon to stay with them in case something like _this_ happened. Kites are fast, but it would still take hours to get here.” he paused for a slow breath, clenching his fists on the table, “So we can wait for the worst, or go now.”

“Why should we kick the hornet’s nest?” the Treasurer said, “And for one man?”

“‘One man’ that is my _nephew.”_ Isra snapped.

“And again, _my_ brother.” he stared pointedly around the table, “But anything that happened to him would be the  _result_ of Qassim being provoked. He will think there is a race with us as the prize, so he’ll track any lead he can before days of marching here. We’ve been seen in Cordoba, coming and going, so eventually Qassim will find him. Or, my sister-in-law’s family.” 

“We diffuse the situation before it even escalates.” Isra finished.

That seemed a bit more convincing, even the Treasurer nodded once, but Yahya shrank in his seat.

“Then we must move quickly.” the emir said, “Captain, we’ll need you, of course our Dragon Masters, Yahya ibn Ali… and I will go with you.”

For a beat there was shocked silence. Then two, before the protest rose in waves.

“Now, of all times?” 

“We can't risk it!” 

“I do believe it will _help_ matters if I attend to this personally.” Khayran spoke above them, “It's been too long since I've been to Cordoba, and we can be back by nightfall. Besides, I'll be under the best protection al-Mariyah’s ever seen.”

He tried not to preen at that, instead offering a slow bow of his head in acknowledgement.

“Then we best be off. Gather what you need, and we’ll meet in the center yard.” 

That was all the permission they needed, and speed was everything. They vaulted onto the waiting Furies and he **asked** the rousing Sickle-Scales to summon the rest of their flock, all but the Wraiths. In the bare minute it took to wing their way home, he and Eret planned.

**There's no time for armor, but we should take the helms. Yahya and Khayran will need goggles for something this long. And…**

**Ru’s not charming his way into this one,** Eret finished.

It ached around his heart something fierce, but they _had_ to.

They rushed inside, right through the screens, switching sandals for boots, grabbing goggles and helmets, but kept the rest of their attire to look the part. This _was_ official business now. But they stopped Ruadhán from doing the same with the barest touch, faces grim and resigned.

“Sorry Ru, you've got to sit this one out.” Eret murmured, “If something happened, we-”

“We’ll be fine.” he said firmly, “But if there's trouble brewing, we won't risk your life. I'm sure once this all blows over, we could visit properly.”

Ruadhán sagged, nodding only once.

“I'm sorry.” his throat burned as they folded around him together, “I _swear_ all will be well.”

“You better be back before dinner.” Ru huffed, “Or Nimat’ll kill us all.”

He laughed, weakly at first and then deeper, until tears pricked at his eyes.

Everyone was waiting when they finally arrived. Skullcrusher and his young protege Blue-Stone, the Stormcutters and their sons Darkmountain and Nightvalley, Nightshade and Foxglove, Sun-Sting and the rest of his pack, Tyrian and the Reapers, Vesuvia, Scarab and Lantana, Caduceus… and dozens upon dozens of Flutterkites and Squidgens.

“What are all of _you_ here for?” Eret threw up his hands in exasperation.

 **Help! helping!** voices chimed in droves.

“Hmm… no, this _could_ help if we need to sell our plans of mail and trade. But- we have to go. We’ll be swift.” he sighed.

Ruadhán stepped in for one last embrace before returning to Lil’ Crush’s side, straps leaden and shoulders slumped. The young Furies… they would be staying, for Ru’s sake.

Naji was practically forced to stay too, and kept a thin, brave face as he watched his father and Yahya clamber onto Caduceus’s back. Eret did stop for some quiet assurance that seemed to help a little, while he passed their goggles on and donned his helm. With his heart in his throat, they saddled up and took off as one, to the northwest.

***

Ruadhán watched them go, and only when the flock was completely out of sight did he hunt Naji down. He was still staring at the sky, all grey-looking as he shook.

“I know where they put Scarab’s saddle.” he said, and Naji jumped, “It should fit Tura.”

“I- Father ordered me to stay, I can't-” Naji stammered.

Datura chirped, a begging sound, and butted into the other boy’s chest.

“We can just follow, keep out of the way, and if they get in trouble we’ll swoop in to save them!” 

There was a moment where Naji thought, and the rest of the Furies crowded in close.

“You get the saddle, I'll get my goggles.” he finally said, brows furrowing hard.

***

There wasn't a hint of the brown Flutterkite all the way there, and Cassian held on to that one shred of hope as Cordoba unfolded before them. They couldn't stop to check Jarrah’s home, no matter how badly Stormvein and Earth-Scar wanted to, on the off chance that he was still safe. So they stayed high, keeping Caduceus in the center of their flock. The Quivir river led the way, and just north of a great switchback at the city’s center was the palace; elegant as an enameled brooch around it's sprawling green gardens. Now, what to do…

 **Circle the place, send a few Kites in,** Eret thought, mind no less a storm than his own.

**A good plan my love. Let us begin.**

As one they dropped, swooping as low as they dared to fly a tight circuit around the grounds of the palace. The walls were thick with guards, though none seemed ready for an attack from above. While the men scattered, raising the alarm, he coaxed a dozen Kites to **dive, look, smell, hunt** for **kin.** The little dragons fell fast as arrows, streaking around the gardens and eaves and windows, **calling, calling-**

And a lone voice answered, **stuck, kin stuck!**

 **Horror** and **insult** and **fury** rippled through the flock and they _howled_ it for the whole city to hear.

“They have Jarrah!” he barked when his uncle tilted closer.

Isra hissed a curse, grip going white on the pommel.

Before they could rally, Lantana rumbled a warning. There was a commotion at the main arcade, motion and voices that spread along the walls…

And one by one, the guards stopped their scramble as men poured from the building, carrying rich green and white banners. An offer of peace? For their sake, it _better_ be. Cassian waited for no one, **calling** on Nightshade and Foxglove as blood roared in his ears and they dove as one, breaking hard and landing harder on the garden path. And so they marched, storming right up to the waving procession, forcing them and the official they flanked to stop short.

He stared down, forcing them to meet the unblinking eyes of his helm before slowly removing it.

“I am Cassian ibn Reza, Master of Dragons of al-Mariyah.” he said, heavy with fury, “And you have taken my brother.  _That was not wise.”_

He trailed to a rather unintentional hiss that Tyrian, the Sickle-Scales, and every dragon above echoed.

The portly official went ashen, mouth flapping like a gaffed fish.

“I've come with the emir Khayran as-Saqlabi al-Fatah _and_ Yahya ibn Ali ibn Hammud. We will speak like _men,_ and I pray this is all a misunderstanding.” 

The man saw some glimmer of sense and scrambled back into the palace, leaving the standard-bearers to sweat at the sight of him and more and more dragons landing to fill the garden. Kites settled on palms and parapets, and Squidgens scattered underfoot as Caduceus and Skullcrusher and Vesuvia surged to join him.

 _“Cass_ are you crazy?” Eret hissed, wrenching off his helm.

The terror in his husband’s eyes was enough to still his heart, and he ducked his head.

“They have Jarrah.” he croaked, breath leaving in a weak rush, “Maybe Khadin, Raimi, Inara-”

“I'll handle the rest.” Khayran said, leaving no room for protest.

Tyrian sidled out of the way, making space for the emir and Yahya to dismount and stride forward… Well, Khayran did, Yahya collapsed as his legs gave out, but a particularly sweet green and pink Squidgen tried to help him up. **Noises, voices, many coming,** Scarab warned, and the Stormcutters whined **kin, where?** He tried to look himself and- oh, there _was_ some mercy left in heaven, the Flutterkite’s **spark** was bobbing closer.

Every breath was ragged as broken glass as they waited, and waited, and footsteps finally echoed through the arcade and garden, _many_ footsteps. Guards came first, and the standard-bearers stepped further apart to accommodate them filing out in solid lines. More officials followed, staying to the rear, leaving space for porters to draw out a curtained palanquin. The _caliph_ no doubt. But there was another group of guards after, surrounding-

 **Kin!** the Stormcutters roared, towering on their back legs to beat the air with their wings, **give! Give back!** Khayran didn't even blink, but the porters nearly dropped the palanquin and the guards barely held their nerve.

“Fools!” the caliph scrambled out, shark-eyed and fuming, “Control your monsters!”

“They _are_ under control.” Khayran said coolly, “Otherwise they’d have roasted you for kidnapping their family. I would highly recommend letting them go.”

“Bold of _you_ to speak of kidnapping.” the caliph’s lip curled in contempt.

“Your nephew is no prisoner Qassim, calm yourself.” Khayran rolled his eyes, “He arrived mere hours ago, and if  _Yahya_ of all people can see sense, so can you.” 

The caliph scoffed, “Ali couldn't beat a lick of sense into him, how could you?”

“I’d be _more_ than happy to demonstrate.” he offered, venom dripping from his words.

Tyrian and the Reapers perked up, chiming **play?** and Yahya paled.

“Don't!” the man bolted to block his path, “Don't, his heart won't take it!”

True, the caliph wasn't a young man. He was easily older than Gobber, though he didn't exactly look it, still having most of his hair and a respectable beard, more silver than black, but his wrinkles were creased deep, especially the furrows of his brow.

“How sweet of you to care boy. Better late than never.” the caliph turned bitter, “But you have loyalties to honor Khayran-”

“And we intend to, when the both of you are seeing eye to eye.” the emir stared hard, “You don't have to oppose each other in this Qassim, your nephew is young yet with much to learn. Take him under your wing, mourn, and heal.”

Both men flinched, one more subtly than the other. As, yes… that would still be fresh. Had there even been a funeral? To be denied that-

“You say that, as you horde those beasts for your own ends?” the caliph turned stony.

“They've only been around al-Mariyah for two months! And what's more, we have our own agreements. They will never be used for war, and we’ve been trying to plan out our partnerships. You haven't made that bit particularly _easy_ Qassim.” 

“What's the _point_ if they won't fight?” 

“We got here in two hours Uncle.” Yahya piped up, “We could- we could go anywhere!”

“A mail service is already in the making.” he clarified, “Then there's trade, even fresh fish right from the sea. There's more to life than killing.”

The caliph went quiet, silently fuming and considering in turns, when Khayran spoke again.

“There's no need for hostages Qassim. Let them go.” 

After far too long, the caliph waved dismissively and Cassian finally swallowed around the stone in his throat. Kadin and Raimi bolted for them the second the way was clear, he didn't even register dropping off Tyrian’s back to catch them against his shoulders, grappling them close. They shivered and shook, blubbering into his mantle as Jarrah and Inara stumbled after them, wrapped tight around each other. They were all drawn, pale, but.. Unhurt, and the brown Kite clung to his brother’s back.

“Shh, shh…” he tried to soothe his nephews, but couldn't hide the tremors of his own, “We’re here, it's- all is well. You're  _safe.”_

Eret was suddenly there, guiding their brother and sister back to the Stormcutters, who folded around them in a wall of wings, keening **concern** and **fear.** But, this wasn't over.

“You.” the caliph said wearily as he jabbed a finger into Yahya’s chest, “Ali’s funeral is in three days. After that, you are exiled.”

Yahya let out a wounded sound, face falling in shock.

“For a year.” Qassim clarified, “You declared war on me boy, and I need to clean up al-Rahman’s mess. Stay out of my way for a year, and we’ll see if you're fit to take your father’s place.”

“But- where am I to go?” Yahya suddenly looked so small, hopeless-

Until that Squidgen nipped at his sleeve, giving his arm a vigorous shake. **Mine! Home!** it grumbled, trying to drag the man back towards a faintly-amused Caduceus.

Khayran heaved a resigned sigh, “There is space to spare in the Alcazaba.”

Yahya’s mouth worked soundlessly, until he finally managed to utter some words of gratitude.

“And we will have much to discuss.” Khayran continued, “I am far too late with condolences Qassim, al-Mariyah owes a great debt to you and yours. However we can help, we will.”

“I'll be holding you to that Khayran.” the caliph sighed, kneading his eyes, “And I'll expect you at the funeral. We can talk business after, have some reports, the usual.”

Khayran’s face fell, creasing deep with sympathy and he swept in close to speak more privately as the Squidgen succeeded in dragging Yahya away. Let them have that then, Kadin was finally reining in his sniffles and Raimi clung all the tighter to his neck.

“Come now, there's someone you should meet. I do believe you'll like them…” 

It took a little more coaxing to get the boys walking, through the wall of wings their flock made between them and the world to the dense, crooning Stormcutter huddle. Stormvein jerked to attention first, and prummed **annoyance** when Nightvalley thrust his head out from under his mother’s wing. Wait, was that- yes, black and blue with a few teal spots, that was Night. His brother bullied out next, all black and purple and bright-eyed **interest** as he scuttled closer. **Kin?** Darkmountain peeped, **_two_ ** **kin! Same!** Not to be outdone, Night clambered over Dark’s back, only to fall flat on his face as his makeshift stepstool bucked free. A wave of **admonishment** stopped that fight in it's tracks, and the brothers sheepishly slunk apart.

_“Woah.”_ Khadin breathed, “They look like Stormy!”

“Yes, Nightvalley and Darkmountain are his sons, they'll be two this winter. It's hard to believe they were barely bigger than _you_ when they first came to Berk.” he shook his head, relief leaving him dizzy and weak, “Come, say hello.”

The young Stormcutters proved an excellent distraction, and they were the perfect sized companions for two young boys, barely longer than Lantana thanks to their tails. Now, for the rest of his family. Earth-Scar shifted to let him in, and he hadn’t taken two steps before Jarrah was upon him. He grappled his brother into a proper hug, rocking gently from side to side as they both drew trembling breaths and let the air out slow.

“You're alright?” he finally asked, “You- they  _better_ not have laid a hand on you-” 

“We’re fine, more or less.” Jarrah said, still shuddering like a leaf, “They came when the boys were still asleep, we couldn't send the dragon off in time. Just stuck us in a room after, no idea what they  _planned_ to do…” 

Another shuddering breath, and Jarrah knocked their brows together.

“It's _damn_ good to see you Cassy.” he choked through weak laughter.

“We’ll see all of you home…” he frowned, bitter anger creeping back in, “Once I'm sure they'll leave you be. Haven't exactly heard an apology.”

“Cassian, you really don't need-” 

“Yes, I _do._ They clearly have no scruples about kidnapping sleeping children, and I trust them as far as I can throw them.” 

Before his brother could protest further, Inara wedged between them for another embrace.

“I'll set everything right.” he swore, “I think I've for the boys distracted enough.”

“Yes, dragons their size did the trick.” Inara chuckled, trailing into a wet sniffle.

“Alright, let's wrap this up. We promised Ruadhán we’d be back home before-” 

A starburst of familiar color-mushroom-names tinged with **shock** and **annoyance** stopped him dead. No, they did _not_. Eret was already slipping out of the Stormcutter tent and he rushed to follow, scanning the sky-

“Oh he is _so_ grounded.” Eret grumbled, crossing his arms.

Yes, there they were, six Furies wheeling overhead. **Admonishment** and a **call** rang between the four of them, Lantana most of all, and one tiny, sheepish **acknowledgement** was all they got in return. One by one the Furies swooped and dove and fluttered down, landing a measure away and huddling close, heads drooping with guilt.

“Wh- Naji, _you_ too?” Eret seethed.

Oh. Oh _no._ Cassian _felt_ Khayran approach, slow and quiet as the tide.

“Naji.” the emir said, calm but firm with disappointment.

Both boys wilted, shrinking from their eyes before easing out of their saddles.

“I'm sorry.” Ruadhán spoke first, trembling from head to toe, “I thought- if something happened, we could- we-”

“Ruadhán…” he sighed, “We asked you to stay.”

“It was my idea!” Naji blurted, face flushing red, “I asked Ru to help!”

“Good. Then you can spend a week on library duty together.” Khayran crossed his arms.

“Not _library_ duty…” Naji whined, hanging his head.

“Would you prefer the stables?” 

Naji swallowed, and clapped a hand over Ruadhán’s face before he could speak up.

“Library’s fine!” 

“That's what I thought. Now come, might as well introduce yourself now that you're here.” Khayran turned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Naji slunk after his father’s heels but Ruadhán stayed put, pale and shaking still. **Pain** rolled through Eret in waves as his facade of stern stoicism crumbled in an instant. They had to set this right. Together, they crossed the garden in careful, measured strides and Ru ducked his head to hide in his curls, almost shrinking away like he was trying to melt into Crush’s side. No, no please-

They drew him in together, folding around like walls, like wings, as the release of all the day’s tension stole their strength. Cassian’s eyelids were like lead as he scratched gently through Ruadhán’s hair, and at long last, the boy’s arms came around them in turn.

“I’m sorry…” Ru sniffedly, barely whispering.

“We got lucky this time Ru.” Eret croaked, “But we might not next time, or the time after that, or whatever else could go wrong. It's our job to protect you, and we can't _do_ that if you're rushing into danger with us. Sometimes, you'll need to hold back, no matter how much you don't want to. So, please, you _have_ to trust us when we ask you to.”

Ruadhán nodded silently.

“We’re not angry Ruadhán.” he murmured, “Just scared. Stay close, we’re almost done.”

With one more pat between the shoulders, they turned and steered Ru forward, to join the rest of their family with the Stormcutters. Inara noticed first, melting into a wobbly smile.

“Oh, is this him?” she gasped.

Jarrah, Kadin and Raimi snapped to attention, uttering a perfect chorus of “what?”

“Yes, this is Ruadhán.” there was no stopping _his_ smile, “Sorry we couldn't tell you more, or visit.”

“Well, we can start making up for lost time. Once _they're_ done.” Inara spared a sour glance back to the crowd.

“Um, who’re you?” Kadin asked, quiet and shy.

“We’re taking care of him now.” he said. That should be enough to understa-

“You, you're like his dad now? Dads?” Kadin squinted.

He winced, “Not exactly-”

“New cousin!” Raimi cheered.

“Now, wait a minute-” Eret tried to interject.

“Cousins wouldn't be so bad…” Ruadhán said, scratching at his neck.

His heart skipped one beat, the three more for good measure. Before he could speak, Raimi darted in to drag Ru away by the hand.

“Come on, we’ve never seen _these_ ones! What’re their names?” 

“Slow down, just a second!” 

“Hey, wait for me!” Kadin shouted, scrambling after and slipping on the tiles.

He choked on little puffs of bewildered laughter, leaning into the arm Eret slipped around his shoulders.

“Yeah…” his husband laughed along with him, “We’re working on things, but he’s some so far already. He's still grounded though, can’t  _believe_ he thought that up.” 

“Looks like he still managed to take after you Cassy” Jarrah chortled, “My condolences.”

“After what I put our mother through? It's the least I deserve.” his laughter only doubled.

But, the reprieve couldn't last, there were still dozens of dragons wandering about…

“Little beast, un _hand_ me! Get _off-”_ all protest cut off with a breathless grunt. 

Speak of the devil.

“Sit tight, we’ll square this away.” Eret sighed, head lolling back.

As they expected, Yahya had been knocked flat and the Squidgen sat on his chest, nuzzling contentedly under his chin. The rest of their flock looked on with **amusement,** but the guards around and above shifted warily.

“He’s fine!” he announced, for their sake, “Just making friends! Now up with you, leave him be.”

The Squidgen huffed, mantling Yahya with it's wings. **Mine,** it insisted.

“Come on, you're freaking the kid out." Eret scolded.

“I'm not _scared!”_ Yahya tried to hiss, but only managed to pout, “And I'm not-”

He paused, blinking slowly.

“You _can_ speak.” 

Eret just smirked and swept the little dragon up in one smooth motion, pinning it's wings but leaving it's legs free to wiggle and kick. **Help! Stuck!** it cried, but only got **admonishment** in return.

“Knock it off, you big baby.” Eret groused, “Cass, can you-”

“Yes my love, one moment.”

It was a small matter of darting in and scratching down the Squidgen’s jaw, until he found that bundle of nerves that made it seize and fall limp with a gurgle. Eret set the lax dragon down while he offered a hand to the fallen princeling, which was only taken after a long, sullen hesitation.

“What did you _do_ to it?” Yahya asked, trying to mask his concern.

“That was only a pressure-point, it’ll be fine in a few minutes.” he shrugged, “And it didn't mean any harm. They're affectionate little creatures, but have quite a possessive streak.”

Yahya pretended not to listen, making a farce of distraction tidying his clothes, fixing his oiled curls, but there was no missing his eyes flicking to the prone dragon’s every move.

“Now, I don't suppose there's a captain of the guard to speak to? I’d feel _much_ more comfortable going home, knowing my family is no longer a target.” he said, pointedly.

“I- yes, that should be…” Yahya scanned the gathered men, brow furrowing, “Where’s Captain Azfal?”

The closest guard looked over, frowning sadly, “He fell, defending you father.”

“How- how many others?” Yahya choked.

“Too many. Enough.” another, older guard said, “There hasn't been a new appointment.”

“Then who-” 

“What is it boy?” the caliph heaved a resigned sigh.

Yahya steeled himself, drawing a slow breath, “Is this family free to go?”

That was a polite way to put it. The caliph looked to Isra, then Jarrah and Inara, the boys all huddled together, and finally back to _him_ , considering…

“I suppose we’ll be needing our own Master of Dragons now, won't we?” 

The chatter stopped cold, even Khayran was thrown. But, only for a moment.

“I suppose you _would.”_ the emir said slowly, “And Jarrah ibn Reza is the only man in Cordoba with any practical experience.”

“I, but-” all the color drained from his brother’s face, “The glass shop, I-”

“Come now Jarrah, we all know you always hated it.” he strode over to throw an arm around his shoulders, “And now you can finally leave all that behind!”

He ducked a little closer to whisper, “And I'm just a quick message away, you  _won't_ be alone.” 

“I- that is-” Jarrah stammered, and finally cleared his throat, “That is an honor I never expected caliph, though I may need to secure a replacement, or close the shop.”

“It'll be handled.” Qassim waved casually, “In a few days, once all this is organized and affairs are… settled. Feel free to seek council until then.”

He and Jarrah both let held breaths go, slow as they dared.

“He’ll be ready.” he promised, bowing his head.

“Do what you must. Now, leave me in peace-” 

The caliph stopped short, dancing away from… a young Flutterkite, green and yellow, chiming **hurt, help!** as it scurried after in pursuit.

“Call your _beast_ off!” the man snapped.

A strong tap of **admonishment** stopped the Kite in it's tracks.

“That's enough now, come away.” he scolded, and the dragon complied, “It didn't mean any harm. We can leave a few here, they’ll know how to take messages back and forth, and they can feed themselves. There's hardly a mouse or rat  _left_ in al-Mariyah.” 

The caliph said nothing, waving an exasperated, dismissive hand over one shoulder as he turned back to his palace, and the rest of his court followed. After a moment’s hesitation, and one last look at the rousing Squidgen, Yahya followed. Good riddance. They would need to stop by Jarrah’s house before heading home, but Khayran and Naji couldn't delay. They left right then and there and Isra went with them, though there wasn't really a need for protection. But Cassian would be damned if he let Cordoba forget who they were _this_ time. They only flew out of the palace grounds and turned the journey home into a parade through the streets, riding tall and proud. There were thousands of eyes upon them, their dragons, seeing _what could be,_ and he reveled in it. Oh, their names would _ring_ through history, he was sure of that. But the time for histories and heroes would come later, for now they needed to help pack for a short trip and shore up Jarrah’s house, probably for a more permanent move once they returned. A dozen carefully-chosen Flutterkites would stay, with painstaking, careful instructions to lay low and not bother anyone. And if that green-yellow Kite was among them, well… maybe he was plotting, and left it some _special_ directions. After all, they’d already seen what good a companion could do for a wounded soul. Now it was time to go. With a little rope they managed to make some makeshift reins for all four Stormcutters, but Cassian pulled his brother aside to the garden first. Something still seemed wrong, and he wasn't about to let it sit for hours more.

“Are you alright?” he asked again, soft but unyielding.

Between one breath and the next, Jarrah crumbled.

“I can't _do_ this Cassy.” Jarrah clutched at his shoulders, arms trembling and eyes wild, “I’m not like you, I can't- I'm not  _made_ for this!” 

“I wasn't either, I _learned_ Ra-Ra.” he gripped back, shaking Jarrah gently, “And you can too, starting now. I won't leave you high and dry.”

“I'll be leaving behind everything Father taught me-” 

“We’ve still got Zayd, I help out a few days a week, and Ali is already training! And I'm sure if you told Father you'd been appointed to a _caliph’s_ council, he’d kill you if you went back to the furnaces.” he squeezed his brother’s shoulders, then let one go to pat his cheek, “You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, and you'll still have Inara at your side. We’ll be learning as we go,  _together.”_

With a weak huff and a tiny, barely-there smile, Jarrah nodded.

***

That night and the next day were a bit of a blur, between getting home and squaring Yahya’s men away, and finishing a few letters to round off the latest stack bound for Berk. The situation was mostly over after all, and they could give a good report while it was all fresh. Ru’s ‘punishment’ started too, which only amounted to cleaning and organizing the library, but part of the deal was sleeping in the acolyte’s quarters…

So for the first time in a month and a half, he and his husband had the room to _themselves._ After a whole month of stress and teasing and denial, Eret was sure as hell going to take advantage of that.

“Hmm, good morning.” he rumbled, running his hands over all the warm, umber skin left bare to him. Oh, how he’d missed this… nothing at all between them, just heat and the rich, herbal scent that clung to him, always.

“Morning.” Cass sighed, deep and blissful, burrowing into his chest, “We should ground Ru more often.”

“That means we’d need a _reason_ to, don't go tempting fate.” he snorted.

“Sleepovers then. He gets on with Ali well enough.”

“And Naji.” a wobbly smile pulled at his lips, raw affection leaving him weak.

“Yes, and Naji.” Cass arched to press a sweet kiss to his lips, “It would be good for him too, I think.”

“Maybe we don't go making a habit of it.” he hummed, stealing another kiss.

Cass hitched a leg up over his hip, rolling flush to his front in a ripple of molten heat, groaning- who was that? Oh who cared, it was _good,_ and he wanted more- Wait, damn.

“Don't have _all_ morning luv.” he murmured between kisses.

“Don't _need_ all morning.” Cass nipped at his bottom lip, then gently _sucked._

Oh, that's just playing _dirty,_ but a proper game needs two. Grinning against Cass’s teeth he shifted in one long, easy pounce, seizing his husband’s hands and pinning them up by his head. It was an easy matter of caging him in before rolling his hips down, tortuously slow and swallowing the moan that was _definitely_ Cass’s.

After a very thorough bath and lazy breakfast, there was work to do. Jarrah needed training after all, but it was a funny turn of fate that their brother had all the ideas for dragon-mail. They got more done in one afternoon than they had in the last month! It was something like using bands of color on the packs to match flags over the mosques, so the kites could know where to deliver. He was missing a few details, but Jarrah and Inara and Cassian understood, and that's what mattered. They made endless notes together, ready for whatever the caliph was expecting, and spent just as much time getting Jarrah acclimated to all the new species of al-Mariyah. He was familiar enough for casual purposes, but he needed to be the Master of Dragons now. And did that _ever_ put a fire in Cassian’s heart, bonding with his brother in an utterly new way, as _men._ There was time for fun too, down at the beach for flying lessons with Ru, Kadin and Raimi, anything to help them keep their minds off the fear that still lingered...

But three days was only three days. Jarrah had to go back with Khayran for that funeral, which they were spared from for a change, but that meant the bratty little upstart would be returning instead of their family. Khayran had the sense to settle Yahya in easy sight of course, Isra let slip that they were making space in the upper keep and far from _them,_ thank Thor. Something about that hawkish stare made him feel hunted in a way he hadn't since- _Ruffnut._ A shudder of revulsion crawled up his spine. Maybe he didn't miss _all_ of Berk.

“So, that emir is coming back and you're stuck babysitting some little prince?” Dad asked wearily.

“Eh, not sure about that last part. I'm sure we’ll be expected to help keep that idiot in line, but he isn't moving in.” he huffed, setting the near-finished saddle down. Just a few more stitches…

“Good. I've had about enough of all this politicking.” Dad sniffed, “Giving me _more_ grey hairs…”

“You should’ve _seen_ ‘im though Dad, once Cass was through. Like a boned flounder!” he snickered.

“I should hope so! Now, is there any sign of Ragnar and his rabble? We’re nearly out of even the _scraps._ Gonna have to get clever once we get our hands on more, make it last…”

“Still got Waveskippers looking, but there's nothing yet.” he shrugged, “Can't believe I'm hoping they're alright out there…”

Dad smiled softly, knocking into his shoulder, “Just means you're a bigger man than most. No one with eyes would blame you for hating ‘em all.”

“I'm just… tired of being angry. Not _scared_ as much these days, but that too.” he admitted, “It still feels weird _,_ being in control again. Being _free._ After Drago, all that.”

“Yeah, I expect so…” his father turned somber, scrubbing a hand over his face, “It was so damn _selfish_ of me to bring you along… And that dumped you right into that bastard’s hands.”

“I wouldn't’ve found-”

“I might as well’ve been _holding_ the iron for all the good I ever did for you!”

“And we’re long past that now.” he said firmly, pulse rising, “I made choices too, and I had plenty of chances to run, before _and_ after. Even Cass tried to convince me to leave! But I still went back every time. Maybe you didn't help, but you didn't hold a sword to my throat either. I was young and stupid, that's just as worthy of blame.”

He slung an arm over his father's shoulders, dragging him close for an awkward hug.

It took longer than he thought for Khayran to return. Library duty was long over and done with when Caduceus finally landed in the center court, strangely missing the keep- oh, right. _Yahya._ But why? His rooms weren't down here… and Khayran looked exhausted.

“Father!” Naji sprinted down the long walk from the gate to join them.

And that brought a small, relieved smile to the emir’s face. Cass reluctantly offered a hand to Yahya, who looked almost ghoulish from lack of sleep. Yeah, funerals would do that…

“Yes, we’re home.” Khayran reached out first, casting decorum aside to grapple his son in for a proper embrace.

“We finished library duty….” Naji mumbled.

“I should _hope_ so.” Khayran’s smile was there and gone after a sigh, “Yahya ibn Ali, you are a  _guest_ in al-Mariyah, please don't forget that. You and your court will be welcome as anyone else to come and go, but your ships have returned to Málaga. Ask, and you will have what you need. Naji can lead you to your rooms.” 

A passing dragon’s shadow left Yahya flinching, then… considering.

“What does it take to ride them?” the man had the stones to ask.

“You'll have to ask our Masters of Dragons about that.” Khayran’s eyes gleamed with barely-concealed delight at the prospect, “Perhaps in the morning, he can join in with the guards?”

“We have a few Gronckles to spare.” he said, relishing the instant regret that fell over the princeling.

“This it's decided. Now, if you could show him the way Naji...” 

With some reluctance and a gentle push, the boy finally relented, gesturing casually over his shoulder for Yahya to follow, which he seemed _far_ too happy to do. He must've scowled at their backs just a fraction too far, because the emir gave a thoughtful hum.

“So, you've noticed too.” not even a question.

“We have, from the instant Yahya laid eyes on him. He doesn't seem too aware of that, which can be a blessing… or a curse.” Cass’s frown deepened.

“Don't worry, he knows who the _boss_ is.” he chortled, “Thing of beauty luv.”

“My finest work.” his husband agreed, pleased as a cat with the cream.

“Well, a warning should suffice for now.” Khayran shrugged, “We can't be  _too_ hostile and undo all our hard work. Plus, what he sees here could spread on even further, to the rest of the caliphate. Then, who knows?” 

Cass echoed his reluctance, but… the emir was right.

**And we can't baby Naji forever. He's a man, more or less, he needs to learn how to navigate these sorts of things by himself.**

**More or less,** Cass agreed, **if he feels the need to come to us, well…**

**Yeah, we’ll offer what help we can. For his sake, I hope Yahya has room to grow.**

**Yes. Though, that's for** **_everyone’s_ ** **benefit, so we’ll have to be the bigger men.**

 **And for once, that's literal for** **_both_ ** **of us,** he snickered.

Cass pouted, and gave him a half-hearted swat for his troubles.

“The library was so _boring.”_ Ruadhán groaned, flopping sideways into the table cushions.

“Punishments aren't supposed to be fun Ru.” he shook his head fondly, “Now sit up straight and eat your greens, unless you want to be shorter than Cass forever.”

“Fiiine.” the boy drawled, slumping against the table instead.

“And you're cleaning your room before bed.” Cass added.

“I know D-” Ru froze, biting down hard to stop the rest.

It went far too quiet. He forced himself to inhale slow, slow, as he felt Cass’s heart stutter in shock, the ache of being so close but _not-there_ was enough to leave tears pricking.

“You don't- you don't have to say it.” it came out too quick, after too long, but Ru needed to know, “We’d never make you.”

Ruadhán nodded slowly, folding his arms and half-burying his face in them.

“I miss them.” he mumbled, blinking hard and fast as his eyes turned glassy.

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Eret reached out, giving Ru’s shoulder a gentle squeeze, “And that’s okay.”

After a few sniffles, Ruadhán leaned into his touch, until his arm lay properly over the boy’s back.

“Nothing in heaven or earth can stop you from loving them. Nor _should_ it.” Cass said, so warm and loving and sweet, “There is no limit to the love you can share, it is a well that will never run dry. You can draw as much as you need, whenever you need it.”

Slowly, in inches, Ruadhán relaxed, but he also looked long at Cassian’s hands on the table.

“Didn't you miss your family? When… you left.” Ru asked, faltering towards the end.

A flicker of surprise came and went and a small, pained smile tugged at his husband’s lips.

“I tried to tell myself I didn't, for a long time. But I saw them in anything, everything. Wildflowers and sleeping kittens, broken sandals and meals by the fire… I saw the echoes of their love and mine a world away, even when I didn't want to. _Especially_ when I didn't want to. And love is what gave me the strength to come home, it welcomed me back with open arms-” Cass struggled, choking on tears, “I'm still not sure I deserved their forgiveness. All I can do now is be worthy of it.”

“Cass, you know that's not-”

“I hurt them Eret, there’s no denying that. Having my own reasons doesn't make it _right.”_ his husband frowned hard, but tucked ever closer under his free arm, “Don't hide from what you feel Ruadhán. Understanding yourself is the first step towards understanding others, and that is more powerful than any sword. The right words can strike sure as an arrow and sometimes… they work better. But there's no shame in feeling, whether it's regret or hurt or sorrow, and you don't have to bear it alone.”

“You've still got your friends.” he added, patting Ru’s back, “And us, if you want. It's not something that’ll heal overnight, maybe it won't ever. But that's okay. No one expects you to just _get over_ that kind of loss, and we’ll help however we can.”

 **Me!** Lil’ Crush prummed, snuggling into Ruadhán’s neck, **me!**

“Yeah, you too. Now go easy before you make him wear his dinner.” he rolled his eyes, “You have all the time in the world Ru. it's okay to let things come and go, and it's okay to be _happy_ too. They'd want that for you.”

After a few more sniffles and scrubbing his cheeks dry, Ruadhán looked up with a watery smile.

“Yeah. I- they would have liked you, if-” Ru sighed shakily, “They would’ve liked you.”

***

It hurt a little less to talk about them. Only a little. But he didn't cry all the way, and he didn't have a nightmare again either. That… that was good. Even if Eret or Cassian or Crush would be there, he didn't _want_ to see all that again. The pallor and sunken eyes and fever sweat-

Ruadhán shook his head, then raked the curls back out of his eyes. No, no thinking about it. Though… maybe he should, get used to seeing _that_ in his head over and over. But not today. There was more than enough to distract him, first on the list was showing up that _brat_ Yahya. He and Crush could manage some solid flips and turns and dives now, and his legs were getting stronger every day. It was only partly the practice, running with Naji was _awful_ and getting worse thanks to summer, but it helped far more. In… more ways than one. Sure Naji was the emir’s son, but that was easy to forget when it was just the two of them. Even _library duty_ wasn't so bad, with all the conversations they managed to sneak in hushed whispers. Naji was fun and smart, and never treated him like a baby the way other big-kids did _._ Somehow it was… different than playing with Mimi and Idris and Timin, he couldn't put his finger on why. It was all still _new_ yes, but he still felt safe, he could let his guard down because Naji didn't expect anything-

Well, Eret and Cass didn't either, but Naji wasn't a- a parent. He would just… wait and see.

And run a few more circles around Yahya and his poor Gronckle. It was so easy, and the pure fun of it put a proper bounce in Crush’s step. But practice was wrapping up and it was a saddle day, so he’d need to run home to put him vest away, wash his face... grab a snack maybe, so he didn't have to stop for lunch.

He decided to walk for a change, stretch his legs out since he’d missed Naji’s morning run. There was a weird ache in his bones lately, and when he mentioned it Eret’s face scrunched up into a sympathetic wince. Something about ‘growing pains’, which Cassian didn't understand and Eret thought _that_ meant he would wind up proper tall-

Something seized him by the collar, dragging him off the path into the shadows and a hand clapped over his mouth before he should shout. But _Crush_ could still hear him, he’d tried, so now he thought _help_ as hard as he could and started kicking and flailing against the arms around him.

“Knock it off kid!” a voice hiss-whispered in his ear- _Yahya?!_ “Stop, I'm trying-” 

“Le’ _GO!”_ he managed to lift his head just enough-

And sank his teeth into the meat of Yahya’s thumb.

The man yelped, flinching away hard enough for Ruadhán to stumble free, red-faced and panting.

“You _bit_ me!” 

“You tried to kidnap me!” 

“Did not!” 

“Did so-” 

Lil’ Crush and Foxglove arrived with a crash and a snarl, flanking him and forcing Yahya another step back. _I'm okay_ he thought, patting each in turn.

“So what were you ‘trying’ to do?” he groused.

“I was _trying_ to ask you something!” Yahya snapped back, hand still clutched to his chest.

“Then just ask like a normal person! Were you raised in a _barn?”_

“I can't with _them_ around!” Yahya hissed and started to approach, but Crush hissed back, teeth fully bared.

“Fine!” the man threw up his hands, “Look, if they're hurting you, I can get you out of here.”

Ruadhán’s face fell, then frowned hard, “What makes you think they're  _hurting_ me? You don't know me, and you don't know _them_ either, so stay out of our business!” 

“You must know about men like _them-”_

Foxglove didn't just snarl, she _shrieked_. Then she lunged, knocking Yahya into the dust and there she pinned him, with one big claw on his chest as her tusks inched out, pressing into his cheeks. Yahya whimpered, nails scrabbling uselessly at Fox’s armor and Ruadhán shook, so damn _angry_ his vision went red. How dare he, _how dare he._ It was Crush that pulled him forward, fangs bared as he snarled.

“‘Men like them’? You've been here one day, you _don't know_ who they are.” he practically growled with the Fury, voice cracking from it, “And they don't hurt people that don't deserve it. You're just a pampered little prince, you aren't  _worthy_ of being around ‘men like them’. Now leave my _family_ alone.” 

“Wh- they're barely older than me, how-” 

“I'm an _orphan_ genius!” he sneered, “And  _you_ aren't gonna ruin everything now that my life is turning around. Just- leave us _alone._ C’mon Fox.” 

He promptly turned on his heel and stormed off towards home, pulse pounding in his ears and fists shaking. How _dare_ he, calling Cass and Eret the worst of the worst for no reason, _accusing_ them of- of- He snarled, kicking a loose pebble across the street. _How dare he._ Yahya didn't deserve one bit of their charity, or free reign with their dragons. How did one even trust him enough to let him aboard? He wasn't _worthy._

Ruadhán fumed all the way home, out to the workshop, through the day even under Eret and Cassian’s worried glances. And, Gobber’s and Big Eret’s, Lantana’s, Skullcrusher’s, Nightshades’... He didn't want to worry them, but he was still too _angry_ to speak even a single word until dinner. Good as it smelled, his stomach clenched and roiled too much to eat even a single bite. Then Eret sighed, setting his cup aside.

“Don't wanna pry Ru, but… we’re a little worried. This kinda came out of nowhere.”

He frowned hard, and slowly pushed his plate away.

“Yahya caught me going home, he thought I was being kept for a-” he almost gagged, tasting bile at just the _thought,_ “He just assumed you were _hurting_ me, for no reason and I- he made me so _angry.”_

A snarl tore from his teeth and he buried his fingers in his hair, tugging and twisting.

“He doesn't _deserve_ your help, and he doesn't deserve dragons either! He shouldn't get to walk around acting however he wants because he’s some fancy-blooded rich kid!”

There was a long, heavy moment of silence before Cassian growled, “No, he _shouldn't.”_

His voice was so utterly foreign and _wrong_ Ruadhán had to look, and the sight froze his blood in his veins. Cassian’s eyes were nearly black, cold and unfeeling and his fist trembled around a spoon bent clean in half. All the warmth in him was utterly gone.

“Cass-” Eret started, hands up to warn him down.

“I warned him once already my love, and now he’s gone too far. That _snake-”_

Cassian shoved away from the table and stormed out between the screens, not even bothering with shoes. Eret swore, very creatively.

“Just wait here, I'll get this sorted.” he said, stumbling after, “Cass, stop! This is a bad idea-”

Wings stirred the curtains once, then twice, and everything went still. And Ruadhán slumped, going numb all over. No, no they couldn't _,_ not _again_. As much as he hated Yahya, he was too important to throw around like a toy. Or _worse._ This- this was his fault, he should've kept quiet, tried to hide…

But Cass said he shouldn't. He- he had to fix this, they could ground him later.

It was Foxglove that met him in the courtyard, and there was no time to wait for Crush, wherever he’d gone. He was strong now, he could manage for a minute. Right? But Fox seemed anxious to get going and she understood in an instant, laying low so he could scramble… well, over her neck. That was the only place to sit and grip properly with his legs, and he could hold on to her frill. At least she wasn't as big as Nightshade, and her armor was different enough that he had more room. Maybe? Whatever, he could compare the two later. 

“You can find them right? We gotta bring Cass back!”

Fox rumbled, sniffing a few times before her wings rose, stretching carefully, but she didn't rocket up like Skullcrusher. With a few flutters and a hop they caught air, then her wings _really_ started pounding and- damn, damn, _damn,_ Cass wasn't kidding! He clung tight until his fingers and knees ached, then burned, then went numb completely and Fox tried to be gentle, he knew she did, but the walls of the keep were high. There was no seeing ahead over her frill, just around or below, so he had to trust that they were going the right way. But what was Cass trying to do?! They couldn't just snatch Yahya out of his room or whatever, there was no telling where he could be. They just, had to stop Cassian, get him home or somewhere else to let his head cool.

Fox swerved hard and sudden a little past the curtain wall, nearly throwing him. Were they on the trail still? Craning as much as he could, Ru peeked over the edge of Fox’s frill- there! Lantana and Eret, chasing Scarab and Cassian, with the whole kid-Fury pack trailing after, but they were _fast._ Scarab and Lantana cried out to each other, but it was like Cass was trying to get away, going higher and higher and further out. All they could do was follow, until they were over the sea and staring down the sunset, and al-Mariyah fell away, buildings no bigger than chickpeas. He’s- he’d never been this high before-

They were finally spotted by the Furies mid-loop, and the whole affair broke apart when Lil’ Crush bolted for them. The Fury raised red hell and swiped for him, but Fox ducked away, then _Datura_ had a go and- and-

Fox _rolled._ He couldn't hold on. Scale and armor slipped through his fingers, closing again and again on open air and he fell. Fox and Crush and Datura screamed, and he fell. He couldn't see, couldn't breathe, maybe the dragons tried to catch him but they only batted him around like a toy and he tumbled-

Until he didn't. Something warm caught his arm, pulled him close and they fell, but now… it was even, steady, and he dared to crack one eye open. All he could see was the red of Cassian’s shirt from where he was awkwardly held to the man’s shoulder, and the gold sky and clouds beyond that, before an arm left his back, reached away, and in a dizzying rush the world upended again. There was something solid under him now, he was caged in all around and then slowly, they stopped falling. Scarab craned his neck to look back at them, Lil’ Crush, Datura and Fox fell in at their sides, and Lantana caught up last as they drifted slow and easy towards a hill on the fringes of the city. Ruadhán couldn't tell if the shivers that left his teeth rattling were his own or Cassian’s, but it was probably both, and his hands were so weak he couldn't so much as hold a sleeve. They dropped in disorienting swoops, circled twice, and finally landed with a little bounce. Scarab dropped to his belly, Cassian tried to stand-

Tried, and failed. He collapsed and pulled Ru down with him, shaking so badly he could barely move to ease the fall. After a long beat, Cass choked out a sob and arms wound around his shoulders again, fingers corded into his hair, and a new weight settled against his back and around them both.

“Ru, you alright?” Eret’s voice came just above his head, strained and breathless.

He could only manage a froggy croak, so he nodded once and Cass released a shuddering sigh. And they said nothing else for a time. Ruadhán’s heart slowed in stages with each weak gulp of air, the dragons gathered close, their tremors eased, and Cassian only held him tighter.

“Cass…” Eret rasped, “Let's go home.”

“Just- a little longer.” Cassian drew a shaky breath, “I'm sorry, I- after all we’ve done, to be insulted in such a way, over and over, I just _can't-”_

“We’ll show ‘im Cass…” there was a shift, and the small smack of a kiss, “And he isn't touching another dragon until he grows up. Probably ever. We don't owe him anything.”

“Sniveling _bastard-”_ Cass started, then cut himself off, “Ru, _God_ Ruadhán, I should be better than this… I'm sorry, you had to see me that way.”

He shrugged, as much as he could, “I felt the same way. At least Foxglove put the fear of _us_ in him.”

Breathless laughs ruffled his hair and Fox preened, all too happy with herself.

“So, Yahya’s grounded.” Eret sniffled, “And… I think you get our point about Fox.”

“No more pleasure flights until we can get a saddle made, _please.”_ Cass added.

“Yeah… sorry.” he mumbled, ducking his head, “I didn't want you to get in trouble.”

More weak laughter, the arms around him _squeezed,_ and Ruadhán… he’d never felt safer.

Dinner was cold by the time they got back, but it was still good and they piled around one side of the table to eat. Sure their elbows knocked a bit, but it wasn't so bad with Cass at his left and Eret on his right. They were all wrung-out and exhausted, so once they were done, the dishes were set out and the table cleared, they took their turns washing and went right to bed…

Or, he tried to. Lil’ Crush woke him up at some point, cramming into his room and half-sprawling all over his bed, chin on his chest and a purr rumbling through them both.

 _“There_ you are.” he grumbled, smoothing the Fury’s auricles back, “Night Crush.”

He didn't like the prospect of practice for once. His hands and knees ached a little, more than normal, but at least the other Fury-rider guards were nice, and they weren't _quite_ as old as the rest. But Yahya was late. Sure it was only his second day, but it wasn't _that_ early. Either he slept in, or he’d taken the hint-

“Where’s that round beast? Anyone seen it?” 

_Great._ A rumbled passed through all the gathered dragons, not just theirs, almost like they knew what happened and they all kept a wide berth around the little brat.

“The green one! Really? Not one of you-” Yahya stopped dead, eyes wide as a fish when he spotted them.

Wide with horror maybe, or guilt? Crush snarled, and he very nearly mimicked the sound.

“No practice for _you_ today, Yahya ibn Ali.” Cass announced, strolling through the crowd with Roller the Gronckle at his side, “Oh don't look so surprised. Did you really think he wouldn't tell us? Or that ‘men like us’ wouldn't take insult?”

“If you want to act like a spoiled brat, we’ll ground you like one.” Eret finished, hand on his sword, “Now if you’ll excuse us, we have  _work_ to do. Out of the way.” 

“All the nimble riders with me, we’re practicing wingovers today. Javan, is your knee still hurting? A shame, stick with Eret then-” Cassian turned away to take charge.

Crush chirped and started to follow, but Yahya _looked_ at them, red-faced and indignant, but he probably knew better than to pitch a fit right here.

“They _did_ warn you.” he said, trying not to gloat, “Just chill out, and stop being a baby.”

“You little-” 

“You're only embarrassing yourself. Who’s the adult here?” he snickered.

Crush and Fox rumbled with him, eyes squinting with mirth but… Yahya just lost his dad, right? And, probably his mom too, if that whole mess was as bad as it sounded. They weren't really that different, in some ways. Maybe he just needed to see that.

“You've got a whole year you know. You can just be a normal kid for a little while, before you have to go back to being all fancy.” 

“I'm not a _kid!”_ Yahya spat, red all the way up to his ears.

“Then stop acting like one!” he shot back, “A scared kid that's missing his parents.”

Yahya blanched at that, “Wh- how would  _you_ know-” 

Luckily, the man could remember their conversation after all, and stopped dead as Ru crossed his arms, something like _shame_ in his face.

“You've got a year, ask for _help_ or something. You aren't better than kids like me cuz you pretend it doesn't hurt.” a scowl twisted his mouth, “And stop being stupid about Cass and Eret. You should be _praying_ to measure up to half of one of them, and you’d _better_ apologize! ‘Men like them’, stupid…”

That was all the space in his head Yahya would get today. With a little nudge Crush scampered off after the rest of the guard with Foxglove on their heels, falling into line with the rest of the Furies. Cass did spare him a look that might've been curious, it was hard to tell with the goggles. Hmm… _later_ he thought, and Scarab’s auricles twitched, then Cass’s brows shot up, before settling into an easy, proud smile. And that… it felt like a whole new kind of home. He could get used to this.

Things settled again, bit by bit. Yahya didn't try bothering him, but he hadn’t apologized either. Not yet at least, but he’d _better._ Work at the saddlery was slowing without wood, so they kept busy preparing for when the ships arrived. Gobber made buckets and buckets of rivets and piles of buckles, and he helped Big Eret make patterns for all the bits and pieces out of old cloth, for every dragon they could possibly make a saddle for. They were both picking up Andalusi a few words at a time, enough to talk with the rest of the workers, so he helped with that too now that the shop wasn't so loud. And, it was nice. A lot of things were now, it didn't… hurt to have fun. He didn't feel _guilty_ about it. Yeah, that's what it was, not feeling guilty anymore, over walks they used to take or snacks he would beg for, sharing stories they used to tell… It ached still, like an old bruise, but he could brave that one step at a time.

Another day of work ended early, just after lunch and right as the heat of summer was starting to peak. There was only one cure for _that._ Well, two, or three, but he didn't feel like swimming or going to the baths, or slipping all over Dreamer’s ice.

“C’mon Crush, let's go. We can practice those flips again.” he announced, rousing the Fury with a few taps.

Crush perked with a cattish chirp, stretching hard and shaking his auricles out before darting into his hands. _Wait, wait,_ he thought, dragging his goggles into place then easing into the saddle… yeah, still better use the lap-belt. Cassian insisted they would practice falling and catching together soon, after that mishap with Foxglove. The prospect left him a little nervous, but… he knew he'd be safe. For now, they could just take a spin where the air was cool and winds lively, and maybe they’d run into other riders.

Like Vega. They weren’t really looking for her, but when Lil’ Crush spotted Simurgh floating back from over the sea he rushed to join them. With a tumble and a twirl they fell in off the big dragon’s wing, waving and chirping their hellos. Simurgh hummed back and Vega smiled, warm but a little sad too. That's how everything seemed to be for her, just a tiny bit sad, or lonely, even when she laughed, and Ruadhán wished he how to help. But she was distant, barely ever around even for Cass and Eret and… he hoped she was okay, wherever she went.

They angled towards a stretch of beach far from the port, silently agreeing on the spot in their dragon-y way, but they weren't along for long. Caduceus rose from the Alcazaba and was on them like a hunting dog, tossing his head when he finally settled into Simurg’s wake and on his back, Naji looked like a storm. Vega shot him a concerned look but, at his shrug, focused on leading them down to the shore. It was sheltered there, quiet, and the second Caduceus landed Naji was off and marching furrows into the sand, muttering- Oh.

“It's Yahya again.” he rolled his eyes, and Crush did too, “Probably back to following him around like a lovesick duckling, now that he’s grounded.”

“I never thought I’d see the day.” Vega shook her head, “The caliph-to-be, one of  _us…_ Well, there _was_ Al-Hakam a hair before my time, and his reputation lasted longer than he did. We smack some sense into that boy…” 

There, _finally_ a glimmer of hope. But, Naji needed a friend too. Ruadhán pulled the lap-belt open and slogged through the sand, grabbed Naji around the middle, and wrestled him down to sit and relax.

“Ru…” Naji groaned, “Not in the mood for games.”

“Good thing I'm not playing. C’mon, it's obvious who’s got you all spooled up.” he jabbed the tender spot under his friend’s ribs, “So spill. Cass is just  _begging_ for an excuse to drop him a few miles out to sea.” 

“That might just cool his head.” Naji squirmed away, “He’s just so- so  _clingy!”_

“He liiiiikes you!” he cooed, “Poor Yahya, he can't bear to be away for long!”

“Heavens save me, it couldn't be _anyone_ else? That obstinate jackass-” Naji blanched, biting his lip, “Don't tell anyone I said that, it's-”

“Nah, you're right. He is.” he snickered, and Crush laughed with him, “Show ‘im who’s boss! You don't have to be the sweet blushing prince all the time!”

“Am not!” Naji pouted, face going red.

“You _kinda_ are. But he's gotta learn you aren't a pie free for the taking!” Ru frowned, then added more quietly, “He doesn't- he's not  _good_ enough to even talk to you! Judging Cass and Eret before he even knows them, calling them-” 

He couldn't finish, trailing to a growl as he kicked the sand.

“He's fawning after _me_ and has the gall to say things like that?” Naji sneered.

“At least he's never claimed to be smart.” he rolled his eyes, “So, he's not even close to being worthy, not for one  _second_ , so don't waste your thoughts on him.” 

“A bit hard with him hanging around…” Naji sighed, “But, thanks Ru. it's good to know I'm not crazy, with all  _this_ going on.” 

“Eret could tell you all about creepy admirers. Well, his was a _girl,_ but still creepy. And there was that time Enzo followed Cass all the way up to Berk.” 

“Why would anyone do that? And _how?”_

“Enzo was dumb and smitten and stowed away on Big Eret’s boat.” he snorted.

“That's… the smith right? With the Fireworms?” 

“Yup.” 

“Wow.” 

_“Yup._ They strapped him to a dragon and hauled him back home. Then, all that mess with Dreamer happened…” he leaned back against Crush, “Now, here we are.”

“Yeah…” a small smile tugged at Naji’s lips, “It really is a shame Yahya doesn't have a personality to match that face.”

“Wh- _seriously?_ C’mon Naji, you _know_ you can do better!” 

“Better than the future caliph of Cordoba? And you just heard me call him an ass! A comment which will _not_ leave this beach.” Naji jabbed at him.

“Yeah yeah, I know.” he groused, swatting the marauding hand away, “Pretty sure everyone agrees with you, even if they won't say it. Stupid rules…”

“...am I wrong though? About Yahya.” Naji suddenly tucked in on himself, all shy, “Ignoring everything else, I can't- sometimes, he smiles and for a minute I forget he's  _stupid.”_

“Uh. I don't really know about that.” he shrugged helplessly, “Never liked  _anyone_ before.” 

“Really?” Naji looked, but only out of curiosity, “Never? Well, you  _are_ on the younger side…” 

“Yeah. I mean, my friend Mimi is pretty? But, the way a flower is pretty. She just _is,_ I don't really feel any way about it.” that was the best he could explain.

Naji hummed, face falling like he was thinking hard. Though, now that _he_ thought about it… that's kinda like what Eret said, not liking anyone until Cass. Hmm…

“I suppose that's it's own advantage.” Naji mused, “There’re a lot fewer distractions around. Well,  _those_ kind of distractions. There's still the normal human troubles, like handsome princes with half the good sense God gave a goat.” 

He snorted,  _“Much_ less than half.” 

“More like a duck then?” Naji tried, giggling a little.

“Maybe a goose, those’re more annoying.” that was enough gossip for the day, “But if you're lucky, maybe he’ll remember how to be a man again, and get all proper smart.”

Naji almost smiled, but it quickly faded, “Even if he did… there's still heirs to worry about.”

“Only if whoever Mr. Council-man doesn't think Cass and Eret did right by me.” he pressed, “Wasn't that the whole point? To prove it can work, so other people can start new families.”

“They'll probably say that won't count…” 

With a miserable sniffle, Naji drew his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, and all Ruadhán could think to do was scoot closer, lean against his shoulder, and be _some_ sort of support.

“We’ve got a year.” he said softly, “There's time to change  _everything.”_

Lil’ Crush and Caduceus seemed to agree, sliding closer to coil around them both.

“Thanks Ru.” Naji sniffed, but managed a wet smile as he knocked their heads together.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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Yahya gave up on his begging after another three days, thank heaven. There was still no apology in sight, but Naji had a new, determined air about him after some talk or another with Ruadhán. There might just be hope for the princeling yet, if Naji could get a collar and leash on him, _literally_ if the need arose. What a sight that would make…

Oh. Perhaps not something he should be imagining in public. But, blue silk, around _Eret’s_ throat…

Cassian shifted uneasily at the workbench, very _very_ glad his husband was elsewhere. These saddles wouldn't make themselves, but there was still no wood to keep making progress. There were endless leather and canvas pieces ready to sew, so Eret and Ru had gone off west to check for themselves, just in case the fleet was finally on it's way. Then they could all get crafting again, between the carpenters and Alcazaba repairs and Hiccup’s inventions. 

With a sigh, he turned his focus back to cutting belts and more lacing. Could never have too much lacing, and it was something to use up all these scraps.

It was lunchtime when his family returned, and they returned in a _rush._ It was Lantana that called out first, **boats, found them!** and Crush **affirmed** right after. Thank goodness, all seemed well.

“They're still pretty far out, maybe a week with how low they're riding.” Eret announced, hopping off the Fury’s shoulders, “Dropped in to say hi, made sure everyone’s alive, _but_ the dragons are still a surprise.”

“Wonderful!” he couldn't deny the cool wash of relief at those words, “Now, it's time for lunch. What tickles your fancy today my love?”

“Hmm, maybe some of those lamb meatballs.” Eret met him halfway for a little kiss.

“No honey cakes.” he scolded, before it could even be thought.

Eret and Ruadhán both groaned, but fell in at his sides for the easy walk up to the markets.

Yahya only lasted two more days before seeking him out, slinking into the saddle shop like a child expecting a proper scolding. Now, what would the little princeling do? He watched Yahya watch them, all at work on what were unmistakable dragon saddles, though he was half-hidden behind the upended arch of a Lava-Knight’s seat frame. There, _now_ he was spotted, and Yahya crept over skittish as an alleycat. The seamstress and her daughter shared a conspiratorial giggle behind the prince’s back, the young blacksmith looked to him with a questioning brow, and he merely shrugged, staring Yahya down as he finally stopped on the other side of the table. He fidgeted, lips parting and sealing tight in turns, and Cassian did not have all day to wait.

“So, will this be a half-baked apology, devoid of contrition and self-reflection, purely to get back in our good graces?” he said coolly, examining his nails, “Or have you seen the wisdom in sincerity, and come in good faith to acknowledge your faults?”

Yahya flinched, and he bit back a sneer. Of course the little princeling wouldn't- 

“I'm sorry!” Yahya blurted, shying from his eyes, “I don't- I let stories and rumors and gossip do the thinking for me, I've never considered- this.  _All_ of this.” 

He let Yahya flounder and grasp at his words, quiet, expectant, and unyielding.

“Even seeing it with my own eyes, I couldn't believe… that it was real.” then more quietly still, “That he was  _happy.”_

Yahya still couldn't meet his gaze, but his fingers twisted in his left sleeve, above the fist clenched so hard his knuckles went white. And that only made the scars there stand out like embossing on leather, thick over the tops of his fingers…

Oh. “You're left-handed too.” he observed, and the man flinched, “I said  _too_ Yahya, you're less alone than you think. You only need to open your eyes and see it.” 

Heaving a sigh, he continued, “As for your apology, I accept. Take this as a lesson, a  _valuable_ one, on curbing your judgements. Observing the world around you will carry you even farther than a dragon. And… be ready for lessons tomorrow.” 

A faint spark returned to Yahya’s eyes when he looked up, uncertain but nearly hopeful, at least until the saddle finally caught his attention. Well, he wasn't touching…

“What is _this_ one for? It's wider than a warhorse…” Yahya asked, quiet with awe.

“A Lava-Knight, like my Uncle’s. We have many saddles that are half-finished, but once the trading fleet gets here in a few days we can finally make some progress. Many of the guard are still waiting for their saddles, and once _that's_ finished we can start on commissions for the rest of the city. Dreadfully boring stuff.” he shrugged.

But Yahya’s eyes were roving the shop, thinking, considering… hmm. Maybe a little manual labor could build character, inspire some humility. The princeling wasn't _entirely_ a lost cause, so long as they kept him marching forward.

“We’re always in need of clever hands, if you find yourself with too much free time.” he offered.

That had Yahya starting and he hesitated for just a moment, before nodding once.

“You _really_ had to invite him in to work?” Eret groused later, and Ru grumbled with him.

“Yes my love, there's just too much to gain in making a proper, civil man of him.” he sighed, “And we’ve done it once before. It's not as if we have to _like_ him.”

“I know…” Eret’s lips curled to a sneer, “But the _things_ he said-”

“Any cornered animal will hiss and snap Eret. He's no less a victim of other’s words than _I_ was.” he frowned harder, “And it was more than just words. No one turned a blind eye to _him_ being left-handed, and he’s got the scars to prove it.”

His husband’s face fell in an instant, “What?”

“It's always been seen as dirty or improper, those that care less will tell their children to hide it. The rest… they’ll beat it out, for the child’s _own good.”_ bile turned his mouth sour, “I was lucky to grow up with the former. Yahya wasn’t, and he’s heard all the same snide, leering judgements of our kind that I did. I don't think he’s had _one_ good influence in all his years, and that will make a poor leader.”

“Well, looks like we’ve adopted another kid.” Eret quipped, but softly.

“Every time you want to break his nose, just remember ‘future caliph of Cordoba’ and make him run a lap around the training yard.” he stood on his toes to kiss Eret’s cheek.

To his credit, Yahya did well with Roller, minding his patience and reining in his rougher edges. They managed their first flights well too, but he would need a _lot_ more practice before Cassian was willing to let him loose on the flock. At least the only dragon that followed Yahya around was that greenish Squidgen, faithful as any hound. The little princeling wasn't useless in the shop either. Unsure maybe, but experience yielding confidence in turns, and soon they could comfortably leave him to work on the Flutterkite packs. They’d be needing _many_ of those, and canvas proved to be a better material than leather. Lighter, easier to work, more than durable enough, and far less expensive, plus it was gentler on the Kite’s delicate scales. Jarrah’s letters still arrived daily, but he was settling in quite well now in the palace, _the palace!_ and their plans were roaring ahead. It was refined over and over again and now flags were in the works, for the seven sectors they’d divvied Cordoba into. The biggest mosque in each would take all the deliveries of the right color, and markers on the packs would see them passed on further, wherever they needed to go until letters were safely in hands. It should work just fine with a little more training and mapping, and probably a great big guide for the new postmen. But it was so nearly ready, then they could keep going, further and further to _all_ of the caliphate… and beyond.

The fleet was nearly to the bay, and at his asking Dreamer **called** all the flock in. They were free to go inland or east, but this was to be a surprise for the history books. After a little more waiting of course.

“So I'll go out first with Dreamer, he still wants to see them for himself.” he said over breakfast, “Then you can set the flock loose. And are we _still_ trying to set up Vega and Griselda? I don't know what possessed you to think _that_ up.”

“What, they're both single!” Eret snickered over a handful of grapes, “D’you really want her pining over your mother for the next year?”

“Griselda has all the charm of a skinned viper.” his lip curled in disgust, “I certainly won’t be vouching for her. We introduce them, but nothing more.”

“Alright.” Eret rolled his eyes, “They’ll be in spotting distance soon, and I know you'll want to be proper dramatic. Let's get moving.”

“Yes, I love you too.” he snorted.

It took a _little_ planning, lining up with the fleet’s path, but soon enough Cassian was perched on the tip of Dreamer’s tusk just a few feet above the waves, while the rest of the dragon lay hidden, nearly vertical. The fleet couldn't stop if they popped up right in front, they were just too big, so there was no point waiting in the shallows. Here was perfect, and they’d escort the ships in.

 **First, we will** **_see_ ** Dreamer rumbled, still churning with old resentment.

**Yes, we will. But we did not lie to you Dreamer, things are different now.**

**Maybe,** a stream of bubbles burst through the surface to his left, **maybe. We must see.**

**They're getting close now, be ready…**

With careful, careful timing and precision, Dreamer flicked his tail, bringing the point of his tusk level with the rail of the flagship and, easy as breathing, Cassian stepped aboard. The crew came to a slow halt, watching the ivory pillar crash back below the surface as Dreamer righted himself. The dragon surged forward and his towering back-spines split the sea between the flagship and it's escort, as high as the rails and new _wooden_ figureheads. The panic only started when the behemoth turned about, cutting across their wake in pursuit.

“Relax, he’s only inspecting you.” he called across the deck.

Silence fell in stages as all eyes turned his way.

“Isn't that-”

“The Bewilderbeast Drago enslaved? Yes, yes it is. Your old boss was a little less dead than we would’ve liked, but _that's_ all taken care of.” he smirked as jaws dropped, “And I think you’ll find al-Mariyah quite different than last year, once you get a bit closer.”

Dreamer pulled up off their starboard bow, craning his neck to look up, and up…

 **New marks? Not** **_monster’s_ ** **marks,** the dragon observed, with some relief.

Ah, yes. The sails had been blank before, but now the forward sheet bore the rampant, coiling form of… of a _Windwolf._ Speaking of, where was-

A sharp pang of **alarm** drew his eyes further up, to Blue perched on a boom like a startled alleycat, staring down hard at Dreamer. **Easy,** he soothed, **easy, come see.** Inch by inch, Blue relaxed and slowly rippled with **familiarity.** That was enough to get the dragon fluttering down to a bare spot of deck, sniffing cautiously.

“Oh, _look_ at you.” he crooned, inviting the Windwolf closer, “You're a proper young lad now. And where’s your boy gone off to?”

“What’dyou _mean_ the Bewilder- oh. Nevermind, that explains everything.”

Ragnar sagged over the rail of the helm, kneading at his eyes and Cassian chuckled.

“Well good morning to you too Ragnar!” he called before sauntering down, “My friend here needed to see for himself that you aren't the same men he left behind, and he already appreciates the change in decor.”

 _”Oh.”_ Ragnar croaked, sparing a glance to the sea, “I, uh. Don't suppose you know how long that’ll take? The men are eager for port you see, and…”

“Come.” he said gently, “Let's see what he has to say.”

The captain’s face creased deep with confusion, but he did follow in slow, hesitant steps and Blue raced to his side. Dreamer slowed a fraction as they approached the rail and leaned over, pulling up below them. Even half-submerged the dragon’s eye was damn near level with the deck and he stared, _hard._ To his credit, Ragnar held his ground but… something settled over him as he took in all the scars, almost like regret.

 **Little-Mark,** Dreamer thrummed, and Blue jolted, **does he hurt? Does he scream?**

Blue prickled, spitting **offense** down at the behemoth before remembering himself and more quietly chirping **kin good** , kin **feeds** , kin **pets** , we are **pack**.

 **Peace, Little-Mark…** Dreamer cooed, and settled back to his leisurely paddling.

And he thought, long and hard, blowing streams of bubbles into the surf.

“Ah, what does that mean then?” Ragnar asked, pale and faintly shaking.

“He's thinking it over. Blue was quite willing to come to your defense.” he braced himself on the banister and… they didn't know Dreamer’s story, did they?

“Drago told you all some sorrowful tale about losing his village, yes?” he asked in turn.

Ragnar’s brow furrowed hard, “Yes, but- what does that have to do with anything?”

“He sold you a _lie._ There were no dragons where he came from, far to the east of here. He found a Bewilderbeast by pure chance and Dreamer was young enough to capture, then _torture._ Your warlord was little more than a sniveling goat thief, and that's all he ever would’ve been without a dragon to back up his lust for power.” his fists clenched hard enough to bleach his knuckles white, “Drago was always a monster, not a man like you and me, and he _preyed_ on all of you. Your misery, your fear, your anger…”

When he looked up, every man in earshot had stopped to stare. Some indeed looked angry, or ashamed, there were even a few whispered declarations of _I knew it._

“How can you _know_ that?” Ragnar eventually asked. Here it comes…

“Saw it right from Dreamer’s own memory. Drago was a sham, but _we_ can see more than he ever dreamed of. We broke Drago’s hold on him, and gave that bastard the death he deserved. You can all sleep a little easier.” he sighed, kneading his temples.

“I- okay.” Ragnar made no further comment at least, “Yes, that- _him_ being gone… that's good.”

He let that settle for a time, but there were a few glaring absences around the deck, faces young and old…

“Where’s Ori? I expected him to be stuck fast to Blue.” he eventually asked.

“Oh. Well, he’s at _that_ age, can't get him out of bed before high noon.” Ragnar broke into a fond smile, “And Dunni’s just about over seasickness for good now, but _Griselda_ kept her up all night stargazing and storytelling.”

“You _might_ want to wake them up soon, I think they’ll enjoy the changes we’ve made around town.” his mouth widened to a proper grin, “And we’ll likely clear out your holds for all the work we still need to do!”

Then he leaned conspiratorially closer, rolling his eyes.

“And at Eret’s insistence, we do have someone to _introduce_ to Griselda, if you catch my meaning.”

“...that sounds like an awful idea. We’re lucky she tolerates _us.”_ Ragnar blanched.

“Tolerates _men,_ yes?” he asked, and Ragnar cautiously nodded, “Then it's a good thing Vega is a woman. If it makes any difference, she almost caved my head in when we first met.”

There was a long, shocked pause before Ragnar threw back his head and laughed.

By the time al-Mariyah was properly in view, Dreamer had his answer, however reluctant.

 **They are different,** the Bewilderbeast conceded, **changed.** **_Good..?_ ** **we do not know.**

 **The ships can keep going then?** He asked carefully.

 **...yes. But** **_we_ ** **will be watching.** With that, Dreamer surged freely ahead to shore and **called** to his flock, **come, fly safe!**

“Uh, is that good?” Ragnar fidgeted with the cuffs of… long sleeves, in summer?

“He’s cautiously optimistic.” something a little coy tugged at one corner of his mouth, “Now, I might try to wake up Ori, maybe Dunni. They’ll enjoy this.”

“What?” oh, Ragnar looked away too soon.

Dragons rose in droves from the streets and beaches and lept from the sea, all streaming their way with Skullcrusher and Lil’ Crush leading the charge. Furies and Featherfalls and Hobblegrunts and Snipes and more tumbled and twirled, and they’d be here in moments.

“Oh.” Ragnar croaked, “Be right back.”

The captain nearly sprinted back to the cabin as the crew looked on in awe, all the work falling from their hands. Squidgens and Flutterkites reached them first, overeager as they were, and landed by the dozen, scattering over the deck to examine everything… and every _one._ **Gentle, careful** he scolded, before they got too carried away. The crewmen may’ve been used to dragons, but not in terms this friendly.

“Just relax, they're only curious.” he called out and- oh, finally!

Men and dragons scattered to make room for Skullcrusher and Lil’ Crush, but Ruadhán made no move to dismount, looking around… warily. Oh, they hadn’t exactly been lavishing praise on Ragnar on crew now, had they? Better be careful, and set things right.

“All is well. Might have to wait for tomorrow for all the business though.” he stretched languidly as he strolled across the deck, “Or we can work out our own deal along the way? I don't think anyone will complain about the loss of a few small pieces.”

“Yeah, that's true. And maybe Ragnar learned a lesson last time about organizing.” Eret snorted, meeting halfway to coil an arm around his waist-

And haul him in close for a shameless kiss that drew an utterly undignified _squeak_ from his mouth. He scrabbled for purchase at Eret’s shoulders when he was dipped back even further, until his knees nearly gave out and the only thing that saved him was Ru.

“You're being _weird_ again.” the boy scoffed, eyes audibly rolling.

“Eh, you'll get it when you're older.” his husband chuckled, “So, where’s the man of the hour?” 

“Off fetching his children, now let me up!” he groused, “Absolute goat, a whole _herd_ of goats-”

It was not to be. With a dark giggle the grip around him shifted and his whole world spun, until he dropped with a grunt over Eret’s shoulders.

“Er _et-!”_ he squawked, “What’s gotten into you?! Put me _down-”_

The **memory** came like a tide; overhearing Ru and Father, debating what you call fathers _when you have more than one._ Damnit, this wasn't the time or place to be crying- but just from the tone, even through the haze of rosy optimism, he could tell Ru was only… musing. Thinking aloud, wondering. It didn't _feel_ like a plan, or commitment.

 **My love, put me down,** he patted Eret’s back more gently, and he relented.

“Let's not get carried away now.” he warned in a whisper, “Give him space to think.”

“I know, just-” Eret sniffled, chuckling wetly, “He _is_ thinking, at all, about a future…”

Twin screams of awe and delight meant that had to settle for later. In a stellar feat of parenting, Ragnar managed to rouse both children from a dead sleep, get them dressed _and_ out into the sun in just minutes. The looks on their faces, and God, how they’d _grown._ Ori had to be nearly as tall as he was now, all lanky through limbs he didn't quite fit into, and half-blinded by the hair flopping into his eyes. Dunni had changed too, not taller by much but broader and stronger and braver for sure, the spitting image of her father- well, save her dark hair. They both took after their mother that way, and she emerged right behind them looking uncharacteristically _delighted._ More dragons were swooping close to investigate now, including Simurgh, _perfect_ , and some even landed.

“Aren't these the guys that hurt you?” Ruadhán asked warily.

“Technically the _boat_ did all the hurting.” Eret scuffed his foot on the deck, “But, Ru, I need you to understand that we don't _like_ them, we don't have to. And those kids aren't their father. It's a circle of favors that everybody benefits from, so we just play nice and keep things moving forward.”

“But-” Ragnar emerged again and Ru’s face truly soured, “That’s _him.”_

Before he could speak, Eret’s hand settled on Ruadhán's shoulder, squeezing firm.

“Never thought it would matter after everything, but Ragnar’s half the reason I even survived getting caught.” his husband drew a slow breath, shuddering as he _remembered,_ “It was the rest of the crew that was ready to kill me, _he_ stopped them. Not from any goodness of his heart of course, but I still lived long enough for Cass to sweep in and take care of the rest. So, I suppose… I owe him in a way,”

“Eret, why didn't you say anything?” he hissed, “I almost _killed_ him!”

“I was a little distracted at the time luv, and barely remembered it after.” Eret sighed, “Just… take it easy Ru. Ori and Dunni, they don't even _know_ what happened.”

Ruadhán grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and pointedly looked away, at least until an eager voice shouted his name.

“Cassian!” Ori sprinted across the deck, stumbling and barely awake, “All these dra-”

A yawn stopped him dead in his tracks, so drawn-out it left him cross-eyed.

“Oh, the sleeping-till-noon stage.” Eret chuckled, “Probably aching all over too, huh?”

“It's the _worst.”_ Ori groaned, scrubbing his face and raking hands through his hair.

Blue was the first to notice Ruadhán, chirping **curiosity** that Lil’ Crush returned in kind and Ru… his entire demeanor shifted. Between little stolen glances, the color rising in his cheeks, the war between forced indifference and keen interest, Ruadhán practically wiggled off his Fury’s back. Oh. Oh no. Raging teenage emotions were the last thing they needed-

“Who’re you?” Ori asked first, head tilting.

Ruadhán mumbled something unintelligible, so Ori looked to him instead.

 _“This_ is Ruadhán, he’s under our care.” he said, though that didn't seem to help, “It's… nothing you have to worry about. There's a lot of work we can get started now, thanks to you and yours. As I'm sure you can guess, we’re needing a _lot_ of saddles.”

“Yeah…” Ori said absently, eyes returning to the sky, “Where’d they all _come_ from?”

“Right under our feet. They tunneled out of the caves at Dreamer’s command, and we’ve been helping them settle ever since. Most are new, but you might see a few familiar faces.” he smiled, a little conspiratorially.

“And you're making _saddles?!”_ Ori’s grin only grew wider.

“Yes, but we’ve found ourselves with too little wood. Perhaps with your father’s permission we could-”

“I'll do it!” Ru blurted, nearly pitching off Crush’s back.

Half of everyone in earshot, man and dragon alike, turned to stare and Ru flushed even darker.

Oh _no._ “Well, you'll need a little help for the woodwork and pattern, but I don't see why not. Our workshop is only a skip away from the docks, I'm sure your father wouldn't mind a few visits.”

“Wouldn't mind what?” Ragnar piped up, coming their way with no less than three Squidgens on his heels.

“They can make a saddle for Blue!” Ori half-shouted, “And the shop’s not far!”

“Oh aye, hopefully with a dozen straps to keep your _bum_ on his back.” Ragnar scoffed, “You would not _believe_ this boy! Flying around like his mum isn't watching-”

“Do not!”

“Yes you _do.”_ Milla- no, _Griselda_ said, rolling her eyes as she leaned over the helm rail.

 **Now?** Eret pressed, nearly vibrating with sadistic glee.

 **Fine,** he relented, and together they **called** to Simurgh wheeling above.

Skullcrusher and the crew begrudgingly made room, and the dragon landed with seasoned grace, eyeing the ship as warily as his rider.

“What in the world did you need me for Cassian?” Vega huffed, “You've already beaten them into submission yes? Unless they need a fresh lesson-”

She paused in her scouting, lone brow eye training on the helm.

“They allow _women_ on their ships? Maybe there's hope for the world yet.” 

“The shorter is Ragnar’s wife, with their daughter.” he shrugged, “The other is Griselda, one of the three retired warlords. Right piece of work she is.”

“Subtle as a _Bewilderbeast_ boy.” Vega scoffed.

“It was worth a try.” he pretended to conceded, “You could’ve commiserated about Lorenzo…”

“What.” Vega said, more demand than question. Ha, he _had_ her.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? She was there when the Bastard of Balansiyyah came to collect my sister, and took it _very_ personally. I'm sure she would have gutted the man and fed him his own intestines if we’d only let her.” a smug smile spread wider, “And word has it she isn't terribly keen on men.”

Vega sighed, low and weary, “Don't go giving me hope child…”

“Don't give in too soon then. Have yourself a look, I dare say she’s interested.” come on, just a little more…

And she did, stealing a glance to see what he did: the frown lines gone, brows softening, honest _curiosity_ leaving Griselda years younger. Almost unsettling really. But Vega relented, fraction by fraction, and even Simurgh seemed to approve. _Victory._

“I've… seen worse prospects.” she mumbled.

“And I'm sure you two can gossip all about him. We’ll see if we can't pull some strings.” 

Bright laughter brought that to a close, and they found Lil’ Crush pinning Ori to the deck to bathe him in dragon-kisses, and Ru had tumbled right off. And he stared at the other boy, moon-eyed and dumbstruck.

“Oh, that poor child.” Vega tutted, secretly proud.

“...the odds are slim.” his smile fell, “We’d best be preparing him for a first broken heart.”

Slowly, sadly, Vega nodded. He knew all too well how much of their love was pure luck, it was naive to expect to strike gold the first time, every time. Eret pulled him close, arm tightening over his shoulders as his joy stuttered in his chest.

“The world’s a big place luv.” his husband murmured low, “And they're both just kids. There's time aplenty for first and second loves.”

“And we’ll be there to tend his bruises.” he finished.

The laughter had doubled now, with Blue joining the game and pestering Ru for attention, and now that Ragnar took notice… He looked back to them, pointing out Ruadhán as if to ask ‘Who is this?’ with one brow arched high.

Eret shrugged, saying simply, “He’s with us.”

Both brows shot up as Ragnar considered the tangle of boys and dragons again, mouth pressing to a thin line as he slowly fell into… contemplation.

“Not many boys Ori’s age on the high seas…” the captain eventually said, heavy with… something.

“Well, however long you plan to stay, we’ll be around. And we’ll probably clean out your holds too, there’re a _lot_ of projects in the works.” Eret said, leaving the offer hanging.

“I suppose there wouldn't be a rush to get back if you did. Got the trip down to about three months, even a few extra weeks would still get us home before winter. It's just a matter of getting everyone else to agree…” Ragnar heaved a long sigh.

“I'm sure we can find a few temptations.” he shrugged.

“Saddles though.” Ragnar straightened, putting on his best business face, “What will you need? Type, size, staves or boards…”

“It's a little of everything really. Oak for frames, pine for handles, all sizes, and they don't need to be _too_ long, anything under six feet is perfect.” Eret rattled on.

“There's a good bit of that, we can start parsing it up. Weigh anchor in an hour or two, settle in, strike out to shore… Might have to wait till tomorrow for payment on that saddle, not sure what your prices are.” Ragnar said.

He shared a look with Eret and the agreement came easy, “We won't be needing payment, not for this one. We have a tentative first pick of your stock, throw in a few pieces today to get the work started and we’ll call it a favor for a favor.”

That gave Ragnar pause and slowly, he nodded, “Aye, that… that sounds fair.”

“And the _rest_ we’ll square away fairly.” he continued, “So, a Windwolf… High-clamshell seat you think? That’ll spare his crests, and he’s broad enough.”

“Yeah, the Featherfall pattern should work. Shorter stirrups though- no, make them adjustable, he’ll be growing like a weed soon enough.” Eret said. So clever, his husband.

“Some extra give in the other straps too, Blue isn't done growing yet either.” he agreed.

“You weren't kidding about that lady Vega though.” Ragnar shifted track, almost savage in his glee, “Griselda _smiled,_ can you believe it? Ha! Griselda, _smiling!”_

“And Vega isn't wholly opposed either. All we need to do it coax them forward at just the right times. Of course, we can't prod the vipers _too_ much.”

Anchors dropped, sails were battened down, and most of the crew was content to relax on deck while a few rowed to shore. He flew right to the shop with a few choice planks balanced on his lap, ready for sawing and shaping, but there was still the matter of Ru’s new affliction. They’d better work a chat in, and fast. 

“Now, Ruadhán…” he said gently once they landed, but the boy rushed ahead and started rummaging for tools.

“Where’re the burnishers? And we’re low on beeswax-”

“Wow.” Eret huffed helplessly, “And I thought _we_ had it bad.”

“Yes… He’s far younger than we were, and I certainly remember how intense everything felt at that age. So let’s make sure he doesn't blind himself.” 

He’d rather cut his own heart out than rob Ru of something so heady and _new_ … but it wasn’t fair to let him suffer either. Slowly, sadly, they followed, leaving the wood on a table and he reached Ruadhán first, so he stopped the boy with the barest touch to a shoulder.

“Ruadhán.” he said again, “Please, just a moment.”

Ru did let his tools down, caught by how much his voice betrayed his reluctance, and pain.

“What’s wrong?” Ru asked, searching them both, “You said- aren't they okay?”

“Yes, but-” breath catching hard, he eased to sit on the bench, “You should slow down, just a little.”

“I don't understand, what-” Ru was floundering now, damn.

“You felt a spark, didn't you?” Eret stepped in, “Everything stopped and you forgot how to even breathe.”

Ruadhán blanched, biting his lip as he looked away, and his face burned red, “Um… yeah.”

“You don't have to explain. What you feel is _yours.”_ he was quick to add, “But… you can never really know how someone will react, man _or_ woman. So be careful, for your own sake. You don't really know each other, so start slow. You already have at least one thing to bond over.”

“Yeah…” Ru sagged, fidgeting with a tool, “But, how did you… you know…”

“Know?” Eret caught his eye with a tender, fond smile, “There was a spark, but a _sneaky_ one. It smoldered and burned and I didn't even know it until I finally saw him again, and then it was like lightning. But we still waited and let all those feelings settle, and they only grew as we saw more and more of each other just from working together, hanging out, talking… We had time, and made the most of it.”

“But sometimes those first feelings fade, and _that's okay.”_ he added, “Slow and steady might just be what you need to protect your own heart. Know yourself and understand how you feel, _what_ you feel, before you look to share that, and know- he may not-”

His breath hitched hard. He didn't _want_ to say it, but he’d known this feeling all too well. _Knowing_ that his feelings, however young and naive, would never be-

Lightning burned over his skin as he _remembered_ with sudden, humiliating clarity.

 _“That’s_ why Javan was so familiar.” he groaned, burying his face in his hands.

“Cass?” Eret was suddenly there, hands on his shoulders.

“I found my first infatuation for his _brother._ Have mercy on my soul, how could I forget that…”

Laughter followed, and Eret crushed him into his chest, “Don't _scare_ me like that luv.”

“I was so _stupid.”_ he ground his face into his husband’s shirt, “Writing scraps of atrocious poetry and slipping it into his bag, following him in the streets… Ruadhán, please, be kind to your future self and _don't do that.”_

“Yeah, that's… kinda bad.” Ru snorted, “But… yeah. You're probably right. It's not like he _lives_ here either, a couple weeks and they’ll have to go. And we’ll be going too, eventually…”

Cassian wanted to say that didn't stop him, he really did but… this was different. They were just boys. Even with dragons, someone would have to leave a traveling family behind, there was no winning for either side. And that was if Ori was even inclined to return such feelings. But first infatuations struck hard and fast, and could leave just as quickly. Selfishly, he hoped that would be the case for Ruadhán.

“We’ll see. Fate sometimes acts in ways you could never expect.” is what he actually said.

“We’ve said our piece.” Eret said, “Won't yank you around on a chain, but we’re telling you this because we know how it is, and we want you to be okay.” 

“Yeah.” Ru sniffed, scrubbing one eye, “Thanks, for stopping me before the poetry bit.”

A laugh bubbled from his chest and he leaned even harder into Eret, who rubbed between his shoulders in soothing circles. Ru really _was_ a miracle.

“Alright, let's get back on track.” Eret dropped a kiss on his head, “Featherfall pattern, buckles and some spare straps, we’ll handle the wood for now and you can watch. Could have this done by tomorrow, give it a test run or three, and then he’ll be flying too.”

“But is that really enough wood? Don't we have to carve it?” Ru asked.

“The handles and backrests yeah. The trick for curved frames is _steaming_ the wood, you can bend it easy as copper! Just need to clamp it into shape as it cools and dries, then it stays that way. So you’ll only need a thin strip instead of a big huge block, saves wood _and_ a whole lotta weight.” Eret explained as he set to work, “Gotta do _that_ first so it’ll be ready by tomorrow, I'll start cutting and we’ll get the measures when Blue’s here.”

“I’ll get the Eight Winds to help with that, faster than boiling a whole cauldron- And where did you put the rip-saw?” he huffed, rummaging in a box.

“Off the rafters luv, moved ‘em this morning.” Eret reached above him to unhook it.

“Moving things without telling me…” grumbling, he stalked off after the clamps.

Everything was ready by the time Blue and Ori and Ragnar and more found them, following Lil’ Crush up from the docks. A young Eight Winds roused from her sleepy coil at all the noise, but he quickly soothed her down. **Friends** he promised, and **hatchlings**.

“Oh lookit _that_ one…” Ragnar gasped with genuine awe.

“Moon-flicker is her name.” he said, “I've never seen her kind in these colors before, so you're in for a treat.”

Indeed, only her belly was the proper soft blue, everything else was dappled silver and grey, and matching Lantana in length she was the perfect size to assist. But now it was time for work, and Lil’ Crush nudged into Blue’s flanks to keep him moving.

“We’ll need a little help Ori, the frame has to come first. If you can bring Blue this way, we’ll set up the rack and start measuring.” he waved them over.

“Just those two bits of wood?” Ori asked, head tilting, “Doesn't seem like enough.”

“But that's the _trick.”_ he grinned, “There's a front-half where the pommel goes, a back-half for most of the seat, but they don't connect like you think. Here-”

He pulled the metal form over, pointing out the shifting pieces.

“A high arch rises right through the center, so we don't crush any spines or frills. The two halves of the frame connect with cross-bars on either side of the spine, so there’s a little give in every direction. Pad the underside with leather, make a sort of hammock across the top with canvas and some padding for _you,_ add plenty of straps, and now you have a saddle.”

“But we gotta get the patterns right first.” Ruadhán piped up.

Then he stopped, looking from Blue to the frame and back, lips pursing.

“He’ll keep growing right? If the wood loses it's shape, could it hurt him?”

“Maybe, it's something to watch out for. But I'm sure Blue would notice first.” his heart swelled to bursting with pride, “Now, measures, let's get going.”

“Right! Fore-shoulders… 43! No wait, the arch- 51! Aft-shoulders, 72…”

He set the iron frames as Ru rattled the numbers off, and Eret filled the steam oven for Moon-Flicker to work her magic. It was only two slats, they’d be soft and pliable in minutes after a few gouts of dragon-steam, and Ori watched it all with keen interest. With tongs they drew out the hot lumber, moving quickly to clamp it to every pitch and curve of the iron frame. It was scalding-hot sure, but over quickly.

 _“There,_ that’ll be ready by morning.” he huffed, shaking out his hands.

“We can get the pommel and stirrups measured next, you got the pads Ru?” Eret mopped his brow.

“Uh- how much for the seams again?” Ruadhán looked up from his notes.

“Hmm… two inches all around, but one for the center seam.” Eret instructed.

“Right! Just two shakes-” Ru scurried back to the workshop, and Eret followed a beat later.

And Ori watched them go, head cocked, merely curious but _curious_ nonetheless.

“Who is he _really_?” the boy asked, strangely... incredulous?

“Just a boy, same age as you. He lost his parents, so we’re taking care of him.” he said, “Why?”

Ori frowned, averting his eyes, “Just thought he looked... familiar is all.”

Familiar, how? It's not like they were related-

 _Oh._ “Familiar, like your father?”

Flinching, Ori nodded once, just barely, “I'm not stupid, I _know_ what sailors get up to.”

“There's nothing to fear. He hasn't told us everything, but his mother and father sailed together for years before settling here for good. And, his father was _blond.”_

He offered a reassuring smile when Ori sagged, and shyly raised his head.

“Sorry, just… he won't tell us what he was up to all that time.” sorrow weighed hard on the boy’s face, “So either he’s got some secret family, or-”

Ori’s mouth worked, but he couldn't bring himself to finish the thought. Cassian could take a guess or two.

“So far as _I_ know, it's not the former.” he said gently, “But the rest… it's not my place to say. He may be waiting until you're _both_ ready.”

“But you knew him, before we even met.” Ori said, not a question.

“We both did, Eret moreso than me.” he frowned, biting back more, ”It's not our story to tell, and I won't take that opportunity from him. I think… he's afraid.”

“Afraid of _what?_ My dad’s not scared of anything…” Ori kicked at a pebble.

“I think you know that's not true. Losing you, in any way… that's the only thing I’d wager he's ever feared. To the sea, or because of his own actions, it's all the same.” he sighed, “You could try asking, but I'm afraid that's all I can say.”

“Not as bad as it _could_ be I guess…” now Ori’s face fell to something more thoughtful, “So he’s… with you guys. Like, you adopted him.”

Oh thank heaven, away from all that nonsense.

“Yes. It _was_ a bit of a surprise to all of us, but we’re making it work. He helps here in the saddlery-” wait, so did _Yahya_ and that merited a warning, “But, so does someone else, a young man who is… well, to put it bluntly he’s _very_ important. A prince, if that makes sense. He's still getting better about his manners, so be prepared for all sorts of unbecoming behavior.”

“What’s a _prince_ doing here?”

“He was exiled for a year, and we babysit on occasion.” he managed a small smirk, “So he’s found himself in need of things to do, and a little honest work never did any harm. It may not be too late to make a proper man of him.”

“That's… kinda weird.” Ori grimaced.

“He’s harmless, and far too scared of _me_ to start picking fights again. What’s taking them…”

“What’s he scared of you for?”

Cassian winced, slowly folding his arms, “Well… he’s a prince. There was a whole mess about who would be king next, and he tried to force us to fight for him. We made him _very_ aware that dragons will never be used for war again, and now we're stuck with him while his uncle cleans things up. We play the game just right… the world will be better than we found it.”

“How does playing around make the world better?” the boy squinted.

“You can't really lead if you don't know who you're leading. Compassion, humility, wisdom… those qualities are so very important but they are _learned,_ and usually by accident. So, you turn those lessons into a game and suddenly your student is willing to learn, and they don't even know it.” his grin only grew, “How often did your parents trick you into helping around the house, or doing chores?”

A flicker of understanding left Ori quiet for a moment.

“You may be a little too young to really see the difference it makes, but helping isn't just helping, and chores aren't just chores, the same way making saddles is more than making saddles.” he continued, and the boy nodded, “He’s getting used to listening to people more experienced than he is, seeing the _value_ in what they have to say even if they aren't as fancy-born as he is. And living among the people, the _regular_ people of a city will let him see what life for most is like. Wisdom has a price, and if it's only a little tested patience I'll gladly pay it. The potential rewards are just too great.”

“I _guess_ that makes sense…” Ori frowned, “Still sounds kinda sneaky.”

“It is, I won't pretend otherwise. But he’s young and stubborn, we try to _tell_ him he needs to respect other people and he’ll refuse out of spite. Gently guide him to a place where he learns to do that on his own..?” he shrugged, “It's working so far.”

“If you say so.” Ori groaned, throwing himself over Blue’s back, “They still make those honey-things in the market right? Dunni was steamed as a clam that she never got any.”

“You bet they do!” Eret crowed, striding back out, “But the day’s still young and Cass’ll kill me if I keep sneaking dessert before dinner.”

“I absolutely will.” he sniffed, crossing his arms, “You’ll-”

“Rot my teeth out, I know.” his husband rolled his eyes, “Got that leather Ru?”

“Yeah, and the-” metal rag sharply as something hit the ground, “Nevermind.”

Spluttering into proper, deep laughter, they slipped back into the shop to help.

***

Ruadhán crawled into bed that night utterly exhausted, but still… he quivered all over, it was like shivering even in the heat and he couldn't _relax._ It all made sense now, every little look was enough to make his head spin and his stomach somersault but… Cassian was right. He couldn't lose his head and weird Ori out, whether Ori even _could_ like him back or not. No, he had to be cool and just, normal. No poetry or puppy-following, just _don't think about it_ and make that saddle. Tomorrow. Which meant he had to _sleep_ but he couldn't relax, every time he remembered those eyes… What color even were they? Every move, shift, _blink_ changed them from storm-grey to sea-green to sky blue, and they were so _bright._ That first look still felt like a kick to the chest, like falling, and he couldn't. Sleep. 

Lil’ Crush grumbled, laying out over his belly as if to pin him to the bed.

“Sorry bud, I'm trying…” he sighed, petting the Fury’s brow.

He tossed and turned as much as he could under a dragon, catching rest in minutes at a time, or an hour or two if he was lucky. The sky got light again, but he was still so _tired._ Eret and Cassian would be taking care of trading-business for most of the morning, so he’d work on the saddles until they were done. It was just the straps, the pads, canvas and buckles, getting everything stitched and ready so they can nail and rivet everything together. Fit it on Blue, let him test it and then-

Carefully, he slipped out of bed, fit to vibrate out of his own skin. They could go _flying._

...but it would probably be another hour before Cass or Eret woke up, and he just had too much energy. Might as well go on a run, right? Even if Naji wasn’t up either, it was as cool as it would ever be out there. Crush was still fast asleep, so he left the dragon where he was, wiggled into his sandals, and snuck out between the screens. It was _almost_ cool out with the breeze, but the air was still humid and sticky and heavy, so he should take it easy. A fast walk would be enough, for a start. The piles of dragons in their little yard-court-garden were still mostly asleep... all but Foxglove. She shambled out from under Tyrian’s wings and Nightshade’s claws, yawning wide and plastering herself to his hip. He... hadn’t really spent as much time as he could’ve with Fox, just the two of them. If there were adventures in their future, he couldn't rely _just_ on Crush.

“Goin’ on a run- well, kinda a run. You coming?” he gave her a nudge.

That got Fox springing to attention, bright-eyed and eager.

“Well, let's go. Just an easy lap before breakfast.” another nudge, and he skipped ahead.

Foxglove yipped, settling at his side in an easy, loping trot while he jogged. No, _that_ was too fast, a little more like- there. He found his stride on the open paths under stumpy date palms, apricot trees, pomegranates, even _peaches,_ and he was glad there wasn't anyone else around. Running, the summer heat, it made his face all red and splotchy, or so Mimi said. It probably wasn't pretty.

The sun was properly up when he got back, hot and breathless with his hair plastered all over. Even Fox was a little winded, and flopped down in the deepest shade she could find. But, only after a parting scratch. He eased back in through the screens, leaving them askew and turned to find Eret and Cass already at the table, blinking in mute surprise.

“Couldn't sleep, went on a little run.” he explained, “Be right back, just gonna rinse off.”

Crush was _still_ asleep when he dipped into his room for fresh clothes, lazy cat, but he let the Fury be and retreated to the washroom. No need for soap, he just upended a bucket over his head, scrubbed his hair out… okay, another rinse, he was starting to stink. Eret swore it was a growing-up thing, but it was _summer,_ everyone got smelly. Though he was still all achy and his voice cracked enough to make him honk like a goose, so maybe it was. There was only one way to be sure, so weeks ago he’d relented and let Eret mark his height on the doorframe of his room. They could check in another month or two, and he only felt a _little_ guilty for hoping he’d wind up taller than Cass.

Half-dry and dressed, he threw his dirty clothes back into his room before taking his spot at the table, and breakfast was a _treat_ today. Cool yogurt, fresh berries and honey, still-warm bread and a few ash-roasted eggs. Perfect, he was _starving._ The riders already served themselves, so he took what he pleased and settled into the cushions to eat slowly. _Slowly, you’ll give yourself a stomach-ache Ru-_

“So, we’ll be handling the traders for most of the morning.” Eret said first, “Stock up for ourselves, all the other crafters too, and then we’ll be back to help with the saddle. Well, assuming you and Dad don’t finish it first. And _maybe_ we can send Ori over- ow! Cass, really?”

“Don't you tease him.” Cassian scolded, jabbing Eret in the ribs again.

 _“Fine.”_ Eret rolled his eyes, “But bring Fox along, we can get her saddle started too.”

 _Finally!_ He nearly choked on the rest of his food and was ready to bolt, but Cass called him back.

“Just a minute, comb out your hair first.” he laughed, “No rider of ours will be seen looking like a wildman.”

 _“Okaaay.”_ he drawled, ducking into his room to do just that and wake up Crush, “C’mon you big baby, there's stuff to do. We gotta go to _work-”_

He hauled on the Fury’s tail, but that didn't do much. Neither did tickling under his auricles, or his squishy paw-pads. Welp, looks like he was walking. Now, for the comb… and not two strokes in, it stuck fast, deep in knots that hurt too much to tear through. _Take care of it_ _Ruadhán, your ancestors live on in this color…_

He sighed, and returned to the living room with his head hanging in defeat.

“It's stuck.” he muttered, “Can you..?”

Cassian laughed, but not unkindly, “Come, sit. You and Eret both, absolutely hopeless.”

So he did, while he snickered at Eret’s flushed pout under his breath. The cushions needed a little rearranging, then he sat and Cass inched closer, slowly working the comb free from the rabbit’s warren he’d made of his head. Then, a pause.

“One moment, your hair is so _dry…”_ in a quick shift, Cass was gone.

He watched the man go, off to the washroom and back with a small bottle of oil in his hand. Cass sat again and dabbed that oil on his fingers, and on the teeth of the comb too. It had a soft smell, like herbs, and it settled around him as Cass eased out the first knots. That hurt a little, but he tried his best to be gentle and Ruadhán held still, still as he could. Whatever Cass was doing though, it worked and soon the damp curls were springing free, nice and smooth.

“It's getting long…” Cass mused, pulling a lock down almost to his shoulder.

“Daniyah’s pretty handy with a pair of shears, if you want a trim.” Eret offered.

He almost said yes. Almost. _Real warriors wore their hair long son, braids were a sign of pride! Had to cut all mine off to fit in better, miss it every day…_ his throat burned as he swallowed, hard and aching. That was too close, he’d almost forgotten _his_ voice.

“No, I- it's okay.” he said, voice cracking, “I think I'll let it grow.”

Something in Eret’s face turned soft and knowing, and he nodded once almost… proud.

“Gonna have to take better care of that mane then, or Cass won't let you hear the end of it”

“I'm not _that_ bad…”

“Yes you are.” he and Eret said together.

There was a moment of shock as that sunk in, but it quickly shattered into easy, warm laughter.

When he arrived at the workshop, Big Eret already had the frame pieces off the big metal form and nailed together, ready for the pads and canvas. But, the pommel and seat- oh, Gobber was working on those, good. _Perfect._ Just a little more.

“There you are!” Big Eret called, grinning wide, “Good work on that leather! Once we get the rest of the wood on, we’ll start with the canvas on top. You can get the straps on- oh, and the seat padding too. Just lay it over the top to get it situated right, straight and centered and all.”

”Right! Oh, Cass ’n Eret are gonna be busy with the boat stuff for a while, and they’ll probably send more wood our way at some point.” he said.

“Finally!” Gobber huffed, “But you’ve got wee Fox with you? Well, at least we can get her measured, that can be _your_ special project.”

His heart leapt at the thought, they’d _both_ be ready to fly soon! But…

“She doesn't really have a flat spot to sit on though.” he frowned, looking harder.

“Yeah, but there _is_ a way around that. A seat up against that first back plate there.” Gobber gestured with his tool-hand, “Takes some _very_ careful woodwork, we’ll help with that bit. But the rest is more or less the same with the padding and straps.”

“Oh.” now that he looked, he could _sorta_ see it, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“Finish _this_ project first, we’ll get Fox started. And _you_ can go fetch little-Moon missy!” Big Eret called out the door, waving the Sickle-Scale off, eyes all fond and crinkly as he laughed.

Foxglove yipped, practically bouncing in place from excitement even in the face of chores.

So, he knuckled down and got to work, stitching and stitching and _stitching_ until the pads of his fingers ached. But it was mindless enough to watch Gobber and Big Eret measure and bicker and start on the frames for the new saddle. Huh, _interesting,_ a curved yoke that just barely rested on the shoulders, arching way higher in the middle than usual for the pommel… to keep him from sliding forward. That was gonna need some _real_ careful padding. The rest got more complicated, built around the curves of Fox’s armor with room to flex and shift, and raised enough to leave room for the canvas to stretch and sag. This would be _tricky,_ but the prospect of a challenge thrilled him-

Then the needle slipped, pricking deep into his thumb and he jerked away with a hiss, sucking the wound on reflex. Ew, _ew_ leatherfingers-

“What happened?!” someone blurted, and a whole bench toppled to the floor.

He fumbled everything, dropping the strap and needle when he stabbed himself again.

“Wh-  _ Yahya.” _ he snapped, and fetched his work from the floor, “When did you even get here?”

“I've… been here. For an hour.” the man looked at him all funny.

“Whatever.” he huffed, settling back in his spot, “We’ve got visitors around, so don't be weird.”

“Right, the boats…” Yahya fidgeted and swallowed hard, “I've- I've never seen the like, even the Master of Ships hasn't. And your riders  _fought_ that?” 

_“60_ ships like that.” he preened, tugging another stitch, “Lured them in with a clever trick, blasted all their weapons, and I'm sure you'll see Ragnar at some point.  _He's_ the one Cass beat the stuffing out of.” 

He snickered, despite himself, “There’s a  _reason_ he wasn't scared of you.” 

Spluttering and red-faced, Yahya stomped back to his little corner to work. Brat.

This close to the port they could hear all the comings and goings, especially now that piles and _piles_ of timber were flowing into the city. Naji said something about the emir’s smartest crafters trying out Gobber’s inventions, and there was all the work in the Alcazaba still, so a good deal of it was probably going there. Then there were carpenters, coopers, who even knew what else, and their share of course. Cass and Eret must be real busy, even with all the bickering it was awfully quiet without them too. Oh well… maybe Ori would show up, before noon even, and he could look all smart and accomplished for finishing this.

“All done!” he finally announced, gathering up leather and canvas.

“Perfect timing! Here, get the rivets, and my tongs- ah, thank ya’ luv.” Gobber chuckled-

And craned up to kiss Big Eret’s cheek. _What?_ They were- oh. Oh. Yeah that… that explained a lot. Don't think about it, don't be weird and _don't_ think about it.

The canvas would go on first now that all the wood was ready, and he dutifully helped hold it in place while it was stretched and hammered into the frame. And… he thought about it. Even if _they_ weren't married, that was kinda like having two dads too, for Eret anyway, and maybe Cassian? He called Big Eret _Father_ more than his own dad so… yeah, him too. They didn’t seem to care or think twice about it, and they _wanted_ to be dads, they just wouldn't say it out loud. He knew Eret overheard everything yesterday, and he wasn't exactly subtle about how he felt but… Ruadhán wasn't _sure_ yet. What if he still had family out there somewhere? What if there was nothing? What if he wanted to leave? He… didn't want to hurt them either which way, it wasn't _fair._ The world was too big, and he didn't know enough to know for sure what he wanted. This mysterious maybe-family he’d never met… or the one he was settling into now-

 _“There_ we are!” Big Eret announced, startling him back. Right, the saddle.

“The leather needs ta’ relax a bit, can’t have it tearing.” Gobber dusted off his hands- hand, “No sign of that lad or ‘is dragon yet, so just as well.”

“I'll go check on the ships, see if they're almost done.” he said, “Probably won't be, those boats are _huge._ Maybe I'll get 'em lunch.”

“Yeah, go have your fun.” Big Eret chuckled, giving him a nudge towards the door.

Lil’ Crush had slunk out at some point, but still napped in the shade with Fox flopped over his back. He prodded both awake, steering one then the other towards the docks. It was close enough to walk, so they did, weaving through the crowds that weren't as big as they _could_ be. Only the two smaller ships were docked, but from the look of it dragons were hauling stacks of wood off the big ship too. That was a _lot_ of wood, wow. Fox seemed to know where to go, but the way ahead was so busy it just wasn't polite to bully in, not with two whole dragons. So he hopped on Crush’s back and they fluttered over, perching on a rail that was well out of the way. It was even busier up here, with people scurrying all over the deck to move wood, furs, and chests around. The haggling was too fast to follow, not that it concerned him anyway, but where was-

“Oh, it's you.” a voice came, right below them over the buzz of the crowd.

He looked down, searching, and his heart leapt to his throat. _Oh._ His eyes were very, very blue.

“Uh, yeah. It's me.” he croaked. Then immediately cringed. That was so _stupid-_

But Ori snorted, grin pulling his mouth wide as he _laughed_ and just the sound of it sent all the blood rushing to his head, so fast he almost fell off Crush. Foxglove caught him though, with the arch of her tail. Good girl Fox.

“Uh, we finished the saddle.” he mumbled, half-hiding behind his dragons, “It needs to sit for a while, so the leather settles, then Blue can test it out.”

Ori perked, eyes shining and wide- green, so green now.

“Ru, there you are!” Eret elbowed his way out of the crowd to them, “All finished then?”

It took a few tries to practically squeak ‘yeah’, and Eret blinked in that concerned-surprised way, _then_ he must've spotted Ori because he went all _cheeky._

“Ori, finally among the living!” Eret teased, eyes crinkling, “We’re gonna be a while, no need to hand around. _Ru_ can show you around in the meantime.”

He glowered, face growing hot as Eret chuckled to himself.

“Oh, and here-” Eret took another step to press a few coins into his hand, “Send Fox back with lunch, would you?”

“Right.” he cleared his throat, “We’ll do that first.”

A call had Eret glancing back, and groaning in exasperation, “Sorry, gotta keep going. But we’ll be at the workshop when we’re done!”

So he left, they were mostly alone again, and Ori stretched hard, smothering a yawn.

“Lunch sounds good, I'm _sick_ of boat food. C’mon Blue, let's get off this tub. Blue- hey, _this_ way you can play in a minute.”

The Windwolf wasn't keen on moving though, frozen nose-to-nose with Fox, sniffing like a wary cat. But they were curious, chirping back and forth even as Ori shoved at Blue’s shoulder. Well, _he_ might be able to help here. Come with us? he thought and Blue jolted, staring hard until Foxglove licked a fat, wet, stripe up the side of his head. Ruadhán couldn't help but snicker as the Windwolf shrieked in disgust and scuttled away, dragging his rider behind him all moon-eyed in surprise. His stupid, _pretty_ eyes.

Lunch came first, some of that lentil stew in flatbread that Cass and Eret liked for Fox to run back to the ships and for them… he let Ori pick. Mostly. He did have to steer the other boy clear of stalls he _knew_ were run by skrimpers or fools that didn't know what _salt_ was, but they came away happy with warm bread and grilled onions and sticky rice with sausage.

...and if they got honey dumplings, Cass didn't need to know.

But, how did you give someone a tour? This was just _home._ There was a house, an alley, a stray cat, another house, house after house, there wasn't anything really interesting to see. Ruadhán didn't really know what to say as they wandered and ate, but when Ori had questions, he answered them. It was mostly about dragons, easy stuff like their names or if he’d tried riding them, if they liked scratches, and once their hands were free he _called_ a few over. A young Snipe, a proud old Lava-Knight, and a Featherfall with a crooked paw answered, perking with interest over someone new. Probably? He still couldn't hear anything back, but it had only been a few weeks, there was still time…

“Wonder what happened to this one…” Ori muttered, kneeling to look at the Fall’s paw.

“Dunno.” he shrugged, “But it looks old, like it's been that way a while.”

“Where’d they even _come_ from? The only dragons here last time were Cassian’s, and one cave couldn’t hold all of them. Right?”

“When Dreamer came, they all just _burst_ out of the ground. Couldn't see any of it where I was, but Eret said the tunnelers went first to open up the way. They don't leave the caves much, can't handle the sun ‘n stuff.” he kicked at a pebble, “Now that everything’s settled, we can start mapping down there. Cass says it's pretty big, it could spread for miles and miles, who _knows_ how far.”

Ori shot to his feet, stumbling on the cobbles and his eyes were so wide, blue then green then bronze _it wasn't fair-_

“We should go check it out! Who knows what could be hiding down there!”

“We aren't supposed to!” he said, too loudly, “It's just for the dragons, so they have a place they won't be bothered.”

“That's _lame.”_ Ori scoffed, “We aren't babies.”

“Well, the saddle isn't ready yet.” he said quickly, “And there’re _big_ things in the caves that don't like anyone, even Cass! Plus, that momma Fireworm that kidnaps Enzo every week. She's kinda overdue, now that I think about it…”

“Oh.” Ori went a little pale, “Yeah maybe… not.”

Breath left him in a rush of relief. That was _not_ worth another week of library duty. 

“I haven't been down there either, but it doesn't sound like there's much to see. Dark caves, some rocks, maybe a mushroom or two.” he shrugged, then snickered, “And sometimes Enzo. But I think we can start working back to the shop, the saddle should be okay now. At least for a fitting.”

The Featherfall whined, catching the back of his shirt when he turned to leave.

“Yeah you can come too. Big baby.” he huffed, “All of you, I guess.”

All six dragons filed along behind them, plodding slowly and watching al-Mariyah pass them by. It was easier going downhill for sure, but he wanted this to last at least a little longer. Because he could already tell Ori was… easy to just _be_ around. He was thoughtful, not too loud or bouncy, curious, and he _listened._ Which he was grateful for, cause it was hard to talk with how his throat went all tight when Ori looked at him _that way,_ but he tried and Ori didn't mention how weird he sounded. And… it was nice. Different somehow from talking with anyone else, but still _nice._ He was in trouble.

“We’re back! I brought Ori and Blue!” he announced, skidding through the door.

“ _Easy_ , I don't see your pants on fire!” Big Eret teased, ruffling his hair.

“Might as well be, it's so _hot."_ he groaned, “Is the saddle ready?”

Big Eret hummed to himself, gently prodding and testing the leather, “Good for a test I think, bring ‘em over. Send him up for a spin after, then we’ll see what’s next.”

He scurried back out to coax the Windwolf in and Ori followed slowly, scanning the shop with a long look- he froze, eyes wide as saucers and locked on… Yahya?

“Isn't that the prince guy?” Ori hissed.

“What, him?” he snorted, “Kinda, but he’s grounded. And he doesn't speak Norse, relax.”

Yahya pouted, “He’s looking right  _at_ me, I know who you're talking about!” 

“Oh. So he’s like Grimmel.” Ori shook his head in disbelief, “A great big baby.”

“Don't think I've heard about him before.” Ru grunted, hefting the saddle off the bench.

“He's a mapmaker, and the most _boring_ man on the planet.” Ori groaned, head lolling back.

“I'm right here!” Yahya huffed and crossed his arms.

“Talking about someone else, you big baby.” he scoffed, “Are you gonna stand there or help?”

Flushed and grumbling, Yahya stomped over anyway and hefted the seat over- too hard stupid!

“Easy!” he snapped, hauling up before the saddle could crush anything, “You'll hurt him! Gotta start further up and slide it back,  _gently._ Honestly, it's a miracle you have all your fingers…” 

Yahya actually listened, drooping like a kicked puppy. No wonder he had not befriended a single dragon on his own. But with the saddle set properly, he gave it a wiggle to make sure it wasn't catching on anything.

“Okay, no pinching right? It doesn't hurt?” he asked, patting Blue’s neck.

The dragon rolled his shoulders, arched his back, then chirped, looking happy enough.

“Good! Now you should see how to tighten all these- Ori?” where’d he go?

“Dad! Dad it's done, come see!” the boy shouted outside.

Ragnar was here? That meant- a sly grin pulled at his mouth. Yahya hadn't moved far, and was in the perfect spot to watch a living mountain roll in.

“Guess who’s here!” he crowed, busying himself with the straps.

Yahya twitched, “Who? Who’s here?”

“I'm _coming_ Ori, relax!” came another voice from outside, and soon Ragnar staggered in.

He watched with barely contained glee as Yahya’s eyes tracked higher and higher, and the blood drained from his face. Ragnar hadn’t paid them any mind yet, and probably wouldn't have noticed anyway.

“Cassian fought _that?”_ Yahya said, down to a terrified whisper, “How in the world…”

“They caught Eret. They shouldn't’ve done that.” he grinned, a little darkly.

Yahya muttered a breathless prayer as Ori hauled Ragnar over, right to Blue’s side.

 _“There_ you are. C’mon and help me with the buckles, these ones first.” he called.

Ori rushed to join in and his father watched with keen interest as they tugged the straps into place around and between Blue’s legs. The fore-band could stay snug, but the aft needed to be much firmer, with the slack carefully looped around the buckles for a little cushioning. It was simple, but it would work well.

“Okay, go run around and test everything out, make sure it's not pinching!” he gave the dragon a shove.

Blue squealed and shot for the door, nearly bowling over Cass and Eret.

“Woah, where’s the fire?” Eret laughed as they both danced out of the way.

“He's putting it through it's paces.” he said, preening a little.

“Yes, we noticed.” Cass pretended to scoff, but there was no missing how proud he was.

“So _this’s_ what you’ve been up to?” Ragnar cut in, still looking around.

“Yes, for about two months. After that mess with Drago, we found ourselves making a bargain to stay and take care of things, and quite by accident fell into official titles. There's still work to do, and… we’re the only ones with the experience to do it.” Cassian shrugged, “Once we have a crew trained to run this, part of the job is done. But only part. Odds are good we’ll be needed here for years yet, past what we agreed to. But I dare say it’ll be worth the sacrifice.”

Wait, what? Weren't they going back to Berk? They _promised,_ they’d go together and… hadn’t said anything about staying. Not forever. Al-Mariyah needed them more than Berk did, probably, so here they may just have to stay and Berk would be the place they only visited. So, what should he do? It wouldn't be that hard to come and go with them, Khayran clearly meant for him to have a future here with that ring. That… didn't sound so bad. It wouldn't be _easy,_ sure. But it would be one helluva adventure-

Ragnar spoiled that with one great step, “Thor, whats _that_ one for?”

He breezed right past Yahya, absent-mindedly patting him on the shoulder, two little pats that still almost knocked the princeling to the floor.

“Oh, pardon me. But really, what in the world is that big around?” Ragnar continued, gesturing broadly to a half-finished saddle, “Hiding all the _fun_ beasties, eh?”

“That's for a Lava Knight, like the one outside.” Eret said, “Our uncle rides one too.”

“Oh really? Lovely colors, that one. A shame about ‘is friend’s paw…”

While the rest were distracted, Yahya staggered and stumbled outside and looked fit to puke. No one noticed, and after a moment he groaned. _Someone_ had to keep this big baby from getting eaten. He marched out, grumbling all the way, but he didn't have to go far. Yahya was just a measure away, eyes darting between the three visiting dragons as he slowly raised a hand…

But none of them approached, even the Snipe. After a moment, Yahya let his arm drop, scoffing like he wasn't disappointed.

“Of course, don't know what I expected…” he scrubbed one eye, like he wasn't crying.

“They can see you're all nervous, they don't know how you'll react if they move.”  Ruadhán said, and Yahya jolted, “Like that. You gotta  _relax_ a little.” 

“Easy for _you_ to say, with all that special tutoring…” the princeling muttered.

“Gotta start somewhere.” he shrugged, “And sulking won't help. Try your other hand.”

Yahya flinched, left hand clenching at his side. He moved in fits and starts, fist slowly rising, and Ruadhán took pity. He _asked_ the Featherfall to humor the little prince and it considered, frills slowly folding back as it limped one step closer.

“It's _paw-”_ Yahya croaked, brows knitting hard.

Well, it did look kinda bad, all scarred and rotated the wrong way so that the dragon couldn't _quite_ make a proper stride, but it didn't seem to be in pain. Otherwise, the Featherfall was perfectly spritely, and a dashing combo of red and gold that he’d never seen on another Fall and it finally, finally have Yahya’s trembling fingers a sniff. Then, it _crooned,_ pushing Yahya about with it's nose, rubbing all over the back of his hand before rolling under his palm and giving him that _asking_ look as it flexed it's own left paw. Huh. They… kinda matched. The scars on Yahya’s hand weren't hard to miss, especially once Cass pointed it out. But the prince was frozen solid, and the Featherfall was starting to wilt with dejection.

“You've _got_ ‘im there, now give ‘im a scratch dummy!” he hissed, “You're making him sad!”

“Right, I- I'm sorry!” Yahya babbled, “Like- like this? Is this alright?”

He skimmed just the pads of his fingers up the Featherfall’s snout, and nearly fainted when the dragon bowed it's head to give him better access.

“They like scratches around their frills, especially between them. Gotta be gentle though, the skin’s real thin.” he offered, then, he thought about it.

Sure they _could_ make a neat pair, matching scars and all… but could it bear the weight of a rider? Cass and Eret would know better. If Toothless could fly with half a tail, there had to be _something_ they could do.

He ducked back inside and Cass was still busy, but Eret wasn't.

“Can I steal you?” he whispered, tugging the rider’s sleeve, “Yahya made a breakthrough.”

“Great.” Eret rolled his eyes, “Lead the way, let's see what the damage is.”

“That's kinda the problem.” he huffed, blowing the fallen curls out of his face, “The Featherfall’s got a bonky paw, twisted all the wrong way. So it might not be able to walk with someone on it's back, even Yahya’s size.”

Eret paused at the door, spotting what he meant in an instant and a frown pulled his brows down.

“Damn…” he muttered, “Poor beastie, that's an _old_ one. Could've avoided all of that if she wasn't stuck down there. Might be able to make a brace though.”

“Wait, ‘she’?” just when he thought he had them figured out, dang.

“Yeah, ladies’ smaller frills don't go all the way to their jaw.” Eret explained, tracing a line from under his ear to near his chin, “Incredible colors though. Now let's see your leg kitten, maybe we can still help. He’s not going anywhere, don't worry.”

Striding out, Eret nudged Yahya aside to kneel by the dragon’s leg, coaxing the limb up to gently flex and test the joint. It was stiff no matter what he tried, but the dragon didn't protest any so it couldn't hurt, he hoped. _That_ was a blessing at least. She even leaned into Yahya’s arms, sighing deeply and rubbing her cheek against his chest… 

“I need to steal her a minute, test this paw out.” Eret announced, lurching back to his feet, “She’s not in any pain, but I don't want to be too hasty. Let's see a few steps now, just across the street and back- thank you kitten.”

Yahya reluctantly let the dragon go, still awestruck and moon-eyed with a hand pressed to his chest, right where the Featherfall was nuzzling into him.

“I-” Yahya stammered, “That- it's so  _warm.”_

“It's summer, _everything’s_ warm.” he almost teased, “And she's a she.”

“That's not what I meant.” Yahya huffed, “But, what’s he doing?”

“Just checking her leg out, making sure she could hold some extra weight. Whatever happened is already healed, so we can't fix  it.” now, he frowned. Poor thing…

“Oh, that’s- _oh.”_ Yahya’s eyes went saucer-wide again as the Featherfall rolled back into his arms.

“Won't be winning any footraces, but she should be okay.” Eret said, “Her wrist was broken forever ago and healed crooked, the limp is only because the joint is locked up. It  _could_ bear some extra weight, we’ll just need to be careful.” 

“I could-” Yahya squawked as the dragon nuzzled more forcefully, “Ride… her?”

“Against all the odds she likes you.” Eret sighed, “We’ll see where things go.”

Blue picked the perfect moment to return, so Ruadhán busied himself checking all the stitching and straps. With how much the dragon was wiggling, the fit should be fine, but Eret would still know best.

“The saddle’s okay, right? It's not pinching?” he asked.

Eret looked over, Blue wiggled again, and after another beat he answered, “Nope, all set!”

“Ori, c’mon!” he shouted through the door, before rushing to rouse Lil’ Crush again.

“Finally!” Ori was out in a blink, with Ragnar one step behind.

“Wait! Wait one _second_ let me look.” the man huffed, “Eh, sorry lad, not that I don't trust you, I just need to see it, for m’self.”

 _“Dad.”_ Ori groaned, crossing his arms with a pout. Oh, that was cu-

Ruadhán looked away sharply, fiddling with his goggles as Crush _and_ Eret laughed.

“Shut up.” he grumbled. They just laughed harder.

“Let's have a little walk around _before_ you go running off.” Eret insisted, “Safety first.”

“If those eyes keep rolling, I'll have to belt them down son.” Ragnar scolded, “He’s right!”

Blue bowed down over his front paws to help his rider aboard, so while Ori settled Ruadhán leapt over Crush’s shoulders to do the same.

“Nothing too crazy now, same as always.” Eret told him, and turned back to Yahya, “We’ll get the wood started for this, and coach you through the rest. It'll be your responsibility-”

Crush was done waiting and shot forward as soon as the lap-belt was tight, prancing circles around Blue and Ori. The Fury seemed to be observing, sizing them up, but it was too soon to be racing. _Easy_ , the thought, later, we can play later.

“Stirrups aren't too long?” he asked, and Ori shook his head, “Try to drop your heels a little- perfect! And the belt too, you'll want that nice and tight.”

“M’not a _baby,_ I don't need to be tied down…” Ori grumbled.

“At least this first time.” Ragnar said, leaning in close, “Spare an old man’s heart.”

“Fine…” after a little more fiddling, it was done, “There, can we _go_ now?”

“Yes, just… be careful. Please.” taking one step back, then two, Ragnar wilted.

And the pain in his face was plain as day, as Blue rounded and sprang into open sky. Ragnar watched him go, brows pinching tight, and every thought of- of leaving wound tight as a noose around Ruadhán’s neck. That kind of hurt on Eret or Cass, because of _him…_ he- he couldn't do that, not to them.

Crush put a stop to any more of those thoughts when he chased after Blue, rising hard and fast to tumble up and over the Windwolf, finally falling into step off their left wing. Ori rode well, _really_ well, looking perfectly at home in the brand new saddle and his _smile-_ Oh, Ruadhán was so, so glad for his goggles. 

“This way!” he shouted, nudging Crush towards the Alcazaba.

He could come and go sure, but he’d never tried to bring anyone in. A flight over should be fine, and he wanted to show Ori everything. He didn't know why exactly, he just _did._ And the Alcazaba at least looked cool from up high, with all the walls and towers. It was hard, trying not to watch Ori looking at it all, that would be _too_ obvious, but he did sneak a peek or two and almost choked. Again. Stupid pretty eyes, stupid pretty _smile-_

Crush took over, shaking his head in that exasperated, huffy way as he turned back over the city. Maybe he could show of Un- Affan’s workshop, or Grandpa Ahmed’s, oh, or the glass shop maybe? That was cool, right? The Fury chose for him, going towards the silver shop when dragons all around scattered, crying out in alarm. A beat later, they found the reason why.

A Fireworm, _The_ Fireworm, surged into the sky with a thrashing man that could only be Enzo dangling from her forelegs, screaming all the way. Tiny Worms flocked all around them as The Fireworm powered higher, aiming for one of the tunnels, the biggest one. He’d be fine for a few minutes, they needed to go-

“Quick, after them!” Ori shouted, urging Blue faster.

“Wait, no! We have to go get Eret and Cass!” he shouted back, “That's their job!”

“We can get to him faster, they're already getting away!”

Oh, he was gonna be in _so_ much trouble… but not if Enzo kept his mouth shut.

 _Quick,_ if we’re quick they never have to know! he urged Crush on, even as the Fury tried to protest with a throaty whine. They were faster than The Fireworm by far, but it still took a moment to catch up and thankfully, Enzo had stopped screaming.

“Just a minute, we’ll try to stop her!” he shouted as Crush drifted closer-

But The Fireworm hissed, jaws snapping on empty air with a shower of sparks. Lil’ Crush shied away, but Ruadhán tried again to soothe the big dragon. _Stop,_ we’re friends! _His_ friends! He doesn't belong down there! he thought, as hard as he could. She should be able to understand at least some of that, right?

Apparently not. The Fireworm tucked in on herself and dove for the cavern tunnel, Enzo yelping a rapid chorus of ‘no!’s as they fell. There was no time to try protesting again, because Blue and Ori were already after them with a combined whoop. He was doomed to the stables for sure. But he couldn't leave them alone either. Groaning, he begged Crush to follow, and the Fury quickly obliged. They dove, sharp and sure, and when they passed into the hollow of the earth all the sounds of city and sea fell away. There was still some light cast by the Fireworms to guide them, though there was no telling where the dragons would go. Eret said the momma-Worms built hives, so that's probably where she would go, they only had to follow _just_ far enough away that she didn't freak out-

The light ahead changed, between one blink and the next and Crush warbled, an excited sound. It wasn't just Fireworm-amber anymore, it was ghostly blue and purple and green, growing and growing until they finally burst into open air.

Ruadhán’s jaw dropped. The whole cavern came alive with light, cast by weird mushrooms as big as trees, big enough for dragons to roost on, and _they_ glowed too- _and so did Crush._ The Fury had markings now, swirls and stars of green and gold, and Blue was different too. All his stripes were edged in pink and blue and violet, and Ori’s eyes were wide as the moon. _Wait-_

“Stay low!” he hissed, loud as he dared, “We can't freak them out!”

Ori nodded once, swallowing hard and hunkering down over Blue’s back. At least Fireworms weren't fast… They could follow with care and still watch everything pass them by, the tiny waterfalls filling rivers and pools, _new_ dragons lounging on the mushrooms, and there were more Furies! Dozens, maybe even hundreds of them! No, you can fawn _later,_ now is for saving Enzo. everything scattered before The Fireworm so the going was easy, and Ru had to begrudgingly admit she was pretty. All red and orange and gold like an ember, but struck through with brilliant indigo too, especially on all her big curly horns. The caves were growing narrower as she wove deeper and deeper in, to more of a tunnel, but before he could worry too much The Fireworm turned hard, down a side passage. And there, finally, the walls ahead glowed orange.

But they weren't mushrooms this time. The walls of the chamber were covered all over with what looked like honeycomb, though each cell was as big as a fist and _alive_ with light. He could almost swear there were things moving in them, but that was for investigating later. The Fireworm had landed in the center, clutching Enzo to her belly as she reared back on her last three pairs of legs, and the little Worms flocked all around them. Better keep their distance still, quiet and polite, they couldn't spool her up. Crush and Blue landed just inside the cave entrance, scooting close together and crouching so low their bellies nearly scraped the ground.

“We gotta be careful.” he whispered, “I dunno how Eret and Cass do it, maybe if we just ask nice? She _hasta_ be doing this for a reason.”

“Can't we just rush in?” Ori asked, eyes darting around.

“No! No no no-” he nearly choked from the surge of panic, _“Never_ do that! This is her nest and it's full of her babies, she’ll go mad! We have to be polite ‘n stuff, let her set the rules and _listen,_ otherwise she’ll never trust anyone. Just- let me do this. _Please.”_

He trembled all over from nerves, but an imploring chirp from Blue finally got a nod of agreement.

At his urging, Crush slunk to the front and, as gently and nicely as he could, he thought _hello._ The Fireworm twitched, turning in a long, slow circle as her tongue flickered, scenting the air like a snake.

“It's really pretty down here!” he said aloud, “Better than any beehive, honest! But we aren't allowed, he has to stay up top. These caves are for _you.”_

She huffed, hitching Enzo higher on her scales. ‘Mine’ was easy enough to understand.

“You can visit whenever you want! Even at night, if the sun’s too much.”

Eyes narrowing, The Fireworm slithered closer, weaving side to side as she studied them. She stopped barely out of arm’s reach, but her lashing tongue was nearly long enough to bridge the gap and Crush… he wasn't the least bit concerned.

“It's okay, trust _them.”_ he said, for Ori’s sake, “We’re friends, see? We all like hanging out, and your babies are great helpers! Enzo can't do much down here.”

The Fireworm inched closer still, but her focus seemed to be on their _saddles._ Crush turned a little, then in a circle to show it off and his auricles perked. They must be having their own talk then, and Blue was joining in too. Yes, yes perfect!

“What’re they doing?” Enzo squeaked.

“Shh, we’re helping!” thank the stars, The Fireworm didn't seem to care, “So, uh- you like saddles? We can make them now, even big ones!”

That had the huge dragon perking, eyes flaring wide and sun-bright. She looked down at Enzo, then around to her back, then the saddles again, fluttering her wings- oh. Well, if she wanted a saddle, she wasn't getting it here.

“Why don't you come back with us? It'll take some time, but we can get you measured and start working.” then, he laughed, “And Enzo doesn't need rescuing.”

The Fireworm scoffed and rushed right out the way she’d come, and they scrambled to follow. Perfect, in and out in a fraction of an hour, and Cass never had to know! ...wait, they were going back to the workshop, there was no _way_ to explain this. And, Crush could rat them out. Damn.

Might as well fess up, that could bump him back up to library duty.

The Fireworm wanted to go every which way, too eager to let either of them lead and Enzo still dangled over her arms, legs swinging freely. They did the best they could to keep the flight smooth until they landed before the workshop again, and The Fireworm didn't waste a minute before trying to shove her head inside. The protest was immediate.

“No! Absolutely not!

“What is _that?!”_

“ _Again_ , with the kidnapping?”

The dragon retreated, folding back on herself as Eret emerged, shoving at her nose.

“Can you get me down please?” Enzo croaked, looking positively green.

“I'm coming.” Cassian groused, stomping out next, “What are you even doing here-”

He paused and looked their way as Crush wilted in inches. Time for the truth.

“We were just flying, and saw them taking off. I tried to get her to stop, but she wouldn't and we… followed her into the caves.” Ruadhán admitted, gaze dropping, “She wanted a saddle, so we got them to come out here.”

Cassian blinked slowly, before looking back to Eret for one of their weird, silent conversations. The changes were minute, but little things still hinted at words, the twitch of a brow or helpless shrug of the shoulders.

“Well…” Eret spoke first, “This one time we’ll make an exception, but don't make any habits of sneaking down there, alright?”

“And it seems you've finally found a way to talk sense into her.” Cass smiled.

The Fireworm stomped demandingly, grumbling as she finally let Enzo free. He collapsed of course, still green at the gills and boneless, but he seemed grateful.

“Dear Orichalcum, you _must_ stop doing that.” Enzo groaned.

“Wait, what’s her name?” Ori piped up.

“Ori-” he paused, and spluttered into a giggle, “Ori _chalcum._ It's some rare, fancy metal the Athenians wrote about or something, Enzo spent a whole _day_ ranting about it once.”

“Did not!” oh, right, he spoke a little Norse, “And it's the  _king_ of metals! Any smith worth his salt dreams of working with it, and the queen of gems-” 

_“Okay_ since you're feeling all better come help measure.” Eret rolled his eyes.

Those two got to work as The Fireworm huffed and puffed, and Ragnar finally joined them, jaw dropped nearly to his chest. Yeah, she was pretty big, and pretty _pretty_ too. 

“Dad, you should’ve seen it down there!” Ori called as he wrenched his straps open, “All glowy, with these huge mushrooms everywhere! And _you_ said it was boring!”

His smile was blinding, and Ruadhán was so, so glad for his goggles.

“Thor almighty…” Ragnar croaked, scrubbing his face, “And I thought _Jacks_ were big.”

“She's a bit opinionated, and _very_ fond of Enzo.” Cass heaved a sign, “Maybe she’ll learn how to behave someday.”

Orichalcum hissed at him, and Ori snickered under his breath.

Ruadhán was so, so doomed. At least there was work for a distraction, and mountains of wood to pack away in the rafters…

The walk back home was ever-so-slightly tense. He may’ve gotten off easy in front of everyone, but he was willing to bet a lecture was still to come after dinner. So he washed his face and hands, gave his hair another comb, and slunk out to settle in his spot at the table. Cass and Eret were still cleaning up themselves when the knock came for the dinner delivery, so he rose to answer the door and take the tray. He only managed to open the door.

_“Yahya?!”_ he squawked, and nearly slammed the door shut in his face.

Nearly. The damn princeling was holding their dinner hostage. Clever bastard.

“What do you want.” he huffed, head thunking into the edge of the door.

“We were so busy today, I- I didn't have the chance to ask much.” Yahya tried to keep a brave face, but couldn't meet his eyes, “The dragon, she's been following me all afternoon and I don't know anything about her.”

...this is what he gets for telling the guy to ask for help.

_“Fine.”_ he shoved the door all the way open, “Don't touch anything. And wipe your feet!”

“I _wasn't_ raised in a barn you know.” Yahya pouted, but wiped his sandals and slunk in.

And he stopped dead in the middle of the room to take it all in, going so limp that Ruadhán had to pull the tray from his hands before he dropped it. They'd really made the place their own in the last month, adding pegs to the walls to hang Eret’s swords, and Cassian’s bow, quiver and knives. All the armor still stood proud in the corner, plus their fancy fur cloaks and coats, scale vests, and the silk mantles. But what _really_ got Yahya’s attention was the quilt, so carefully hung on a long rod on the far wall. That was kinda the bedroom, but it didn't feel so weird with the curtains wide open and the quilt was _worth_ showing off.

“That's… all their dragons.” Yahya said, not a question but still curious.

“Yeah, it was a wedding gift. The weapons and fancy clothes were too. Some of them anyway.” he preened.

“They're _married?”_ Yahya spun about so hard he nearly tripped on the rug, “But- how? That's not  _possible.”_

“Not here, no.” Cassian said, striding out from behind the washroom curtains, “Other parts of the world aren't so… rigid. No one batted an eye, and the ceremony was quiet, just a few friends and family. It was perfect.”

The smile on Cass’s face was small, but so soft from the memory and Ruadhán found himself wishing he could’ve seen it. But Yahya looked properly Gronckle-struck, fit to collapse, so he sighed and dragged the man over to the table to sit, the one side no one ever took. Oh, the door was still open-

Open, and full of confused Featherfall. She mewled desperately, half-stuck but too stubborn to back out or commit to the squeeze, so he had to come to the rescue.

“The whole wall is open _right there.”_ he groused, “Why’d you think you could fit?”

She just whined as he hauled all his weight against her neck, forcing her back one step, then another, and another until she was clear and he shut the door on her nose. Damn cat, worse than _Crush…_ at least she wasn't much bigger. Taller maybe, but not too big to fit in once he got the screens out of the way, and the curtains pulled aside. The Featherfall inched in one paw at a time, all nervously hunched in on herself as she scanned the room. It was probably weird, being in a human home for the first time…

“C’mon, he's over here. Just move slow, and sit where you're comfortable.”

He had to steer her along with a hand under her chin, but as soon as the dragon’s eyes locked on Yahya, she rushed the last steps to mash her brow into his back.

“Cassandra, how did you-” Yahya jolted, scanning behind him, “Oh. That's rather handy.”

Despite himself, Ruadhán snickered, all the way to his spot as Eret joined them.

“What?” the princeling huffed, “It's from the classics!”

_“Cat_ ssandra.” he snorted gleefully, and Eret was quick to laugh with him.

Cassian at least tried to hide his smile, “Yes, well, let's eat while dinner’s still hot.”

Yahya pouted, and stole a cushion from his side for Cassandra to rest her head on. At least she had the decency to enjoy it, rolling a little to sink in and then, she started to purr. That seemed to be a proper shock, Yahya went all moon-eyed with wonder and slowly stroked the dragon’s neck with shaking fingers.

“Catssandra!” he crowed again, smirking at Yahya’s indignant glare.

“Alright, you've had your fun.” Eret pretended to scold, “As for Featherfalls, they aren't too complicated. A little shy, a little vain, simple gas-fire, and all the frills need some extra care, but other than that they're just regular dragons.”

“So far as we know.” Cass added, “We’ve been surprised before. They're on the faster, nimble side, so a saddle is very much necessary. It'll come in time.”

“We’ll need another shaping rack, one at a time is _far_ too slow.” Eret mused.

“Another project for Gobber, since we’re all caught up on parts…”

They hadn't said a word about the caves, or even looked cross his way as they served up dinner, fit for _four_ he noted. It was probably to spare him a lecture if from of Yahya, which he was grateful for, but the anticipation wasn't much better. They talked between bites, mostly shop-stuff, some dragon stuff, and their… _guest_ was almost suspiciously well-behaved. It was like petting the right dragon killed all the venom and vinegar in him, but Ruadhán wasn't holding his breath. The princeling had to _prove_ he was better.

At least Cass and Eret seemed to agree with a shared, sidelong look when they finally ushered Yahya out at twilight. Good _riddance._ This better not turn into a regular thing.

“Well, _that_ was interesting.” Eret quipped, stretching out his back.

“Quite unexpected.” Cass agreed, “Maybe there's hope for the little caliph yet.”

“And now we’ve got extra eyes making sure he behaves.” he giggles returned, _“Catssandra.”_

Eret and Cass chuckled with him, but the silence settled in close and they shared a look. Here it comes...

“So, you broke the rules.” Eret said, shrugging in resignation.

“But for the right reasons.” Cass finished, “Crush did show us. This wasn't to show off, or brag or peacock about. You only did what we would have done.”

“But we _do_ have to insist you don't go back in without one of us.” Eret ruffled his hair.

He almost ducked away, but- “Wait, we can go back?”

“Not too often, but yes. We really should be exploring more, try to make good on some of our promises.” Cass pursed his lips, “Silver, gold, gems… there must be things of value down there.”

“Another day luv, we still have to babysit Ragnar.” Eret kissed Cass’s cheek, “And _you_ still have a heart to win over!”

“Eret…”

“What? There's still time!”

“I don't… think it could happen.” he mumbled, heart sinking.

“He doesn't even know what he’s missing!” Eret tried to cut in, “In a few weeks, who knows?”

He shook his head, and all the bluster dropped in an instant.

“It's just a feeling, but I don't think he's… like us. And it probably wouldn't end well anyway. He's got places to go and, so do we.” he shrugged.

Cassian was the first to crumble, swooping in to wrap strong arms around his shoulders and it was so _easy_ to just lean into that, a great big wall between him and the world.

“I'm so sorry Ruadhán.” Cassian said, soft but still hurting.

“We’ll have to have a serious talk, with this whole ‘Master of Dragons’ thing. Eventually.” Eret said, “Can't really split our time between here and Berk evenly if we’re this important. And we’ll need to stay on… probably for a good long while.”

Cassian flinched around him, breath leaving in a pained rush. _Oh._ So they’d been thinking about that too, of course they had. Maybe they could skip out for a few weeks at a time, go visiting up north, but it couldn't be more than that, could it? What about Gobber and Big Eret, and everyone else?

"We’ll find a way, somehow.” Cassian nearly whispered, hugging him tighter.

“We’ve got time.” Eret agreed, just as quiet, “No matter what, we’re still taking that lookaround up in Angleland. We keep our promises.”

He sniffed, and a tiny smile slipped through. “I know.”

***

Another day, another step closer to getting life back to normal. There was work to do, riders to train, and thank the _gods_ for that Featherfall. Now Yahya had someone else to be accountable to, something to work for on his own, even if it kept them out of their hair a _lot_ less than Eret had hoped. A dinner or two a week wouldn't kill them, probably, and only because the princeling was finally shedding all the old venom and bile he’d heard. The bathroom wasn't so very far, he and Cass both heard the heartbroken _awe_ when Yahya heard the word ‘married’, and it was no wonder. He’d probably never even let himself think it, same as Cass. It just _couldn't be._

Except it _could,_ and now that idea was well and truly planted in the future caliph’s head.

So, today would be the day for an experiment too. The first waves of pomegranates were ripening, and Dreamer had been refining his ice blasts, so they were finally ready to send off a Squidgen and a Hobblegrunt, bearing fruit and a frozen tuna right to the caliph’s door. Or, Jarrah’s technically, he was their go-between and would make sure it all got where it needed to go, and they’d likely hear all about it in the evening. Hopefully the delivery would go over well, or get a passing humm of acknowledgement. Impressing this man was _important,_ and Jarrah seemed to think he was… warming. Changing bit by bit. He wasn’t shooing the green Flutterkite away anymore at least, and just let it follow him around. That was certainly a start.

Lunch was a welcome break after all that and they had a whole pile of pomegranates to themselves, so ripe the skins were splitting around their ruby seeds. He’d worked through one all on his own and was cracking open a second when the first **calls** echoed in the distance, **there, here, here!** Lil’ Crush piped up too, chirping **here!** until a weary Flutterkite dropped out of the sky and flopped on the table. **Here** it peeped, before snatching a bundle of grapes. The Berkian sigil on it's letter pack was well worth the loss of some fruit.

“Cass, mail’s here!” he shouted into the shop, before working the ties open.

“Thank _goodness.”_ his husband arrived in a rush, “Hopefully they aren't panicking after our last letters, can't really update them quick enough.”

“Yeah, plenty's changed.” he hummed, sorting through a stack, “Oh, here, from Saffy.”

“Thank you, my love.” Cass dropped a kiss on his cheek, and pulled the folds of the letter open.

It hurt, having to hear about Finna’s first steps and first words like this instead of seeing it for themselves, but at least they could still _hear_ about it. The guest lodge was nearly done, the crops were racing to new heights, the dragons were all fit and happy, but quite a few people around Berk were growing curious about those mysterious lands down south, there were talks of visiting…

But Hiccup at least seemed confident in their handling of the whole Cordoba affair, he _knew_ it was a good idea to wait till it was over-

“Oh no.” Cass groaned, and his stomach swooped, “Saffy overheard Valka, Fishlegs _and_ the twins planning a trip down. Wait- it started with just Val and Fish, the _Twins_ overheard and planned to invite themselves along.”

His blood froze. No, _anyone_ but the twins, Odin spare them! And…

“If they left already, it's too late to send a letter back.”

“They could be halfway here.” Cass sagged, kneading his eyes.

“Who’s coming?” Ru asked from the doorway.

“Some friends from Berk, maybe. Probably.” he sighed, “Hiccup’s mother, and some of his friends. Fishlegs is fine, you'll probably like him, and Tuffnut is tolerable on his own, but pair him up with his sister and they're a nightmare.”

“Ruffnut is an absolute _menace.”_ Cass sneered, “We can't leave them unsupervised.”

“Not for a minute.” he agreed, “And we should warn the emir.”

“Pardon but, _who_ is coming?” Khayran asked, uncharacteristically dumbfounded.

Should've seen this coming, “Yeah, I know it's strange, but they're some of Berk’s best dragon scholars and trainers. Well, two of them are. The other two that  _may_ be coming are, well… there's no _polite_ way to say it but-” 

“They're the village troublemakers.” Cass finished with a beleaguered sigh, “Which prompted this whole discussion. I swear we’ll do everything in our power to keep them in check, because they will absolutely need it.”

“I suppose I'll have to take your word on that.” Khayran rubbed at his temples.

“Nightshade’ll be more than happy to babysit.” he smirked at the thought.

“And speaking of such activities…” the emir shifted, “Yahya has shown a rather significant change in…”

“Tolerability?” Cass offered.

“Your words, not mine.” Khayran smiled, secretive and coy, “It's the talk of the town, as they say. The future caliph of Cordoba, making saddles and riding dragons instead of invading, growing sweeter by the day… I do hope more falls from the clouds weren't necessary for  _that_ .” 

“Thankfully, no.” he snorted, “Though he had a few close calls.  _Very_ close.” 

“Ah. That bad then?” 

“At first. He's settled since, but Ruadhán does plenty to rile him.” Cass swelled with pride.

“Ruadhán…” Khayran mused, “It's hardly been two months, and he's a wholly different young man. I wish I could say I was surprised, but calling the whole affair a ‘test’ was merely a formality. There wasn't really any doubt in your success.”

His heart leapt, nearly throttling him and Cass didn't fare much better. They'd suspected as much, but hearing it right from the source? That was still… wild.

“Just took a little patience is all.” he said, after clearing his throat, “Dragons helped of course.”

“Indeed.” the fond smile grew around Khayran’s eyes, “And Naji’s never been happier, between my wife’s recovery and a friend his age. He's never had a brother, or a sister, but I dare say Ruadhán’s as close as one can be. I suspect Naji’s been confiding in him, all the worries of young people too embarrassing to take to a parent…”

“He hasn't mentioned anything to us.” he said without thinking, then winced. Of course, that's how secrets _worked_ stupid.

“Then my son’s trust is well placed.” Khayran’s smile only spread wider, “I'm sure if it was something truly dire, we would know. We can't solve all their problems for them.”

“No, we can't.” Cass agreed, so bitter-sweet, “They're at the age of testing their own wings, and we have to give them space to do it.”

“Testing wings… an inspired metaphor.” Khayran- was he _teasing?_ “But this appointment to office… it doesn't need to be forever. I won't claim to know your plans for life after the agreed year, but don't let those rings become chains. We can always find another to take up the mantle.” 

Cass caught his eye for a long, knowing look. They could go home, move freely like they'd hoped to… but there was so way they could find and train up someone to equal them both. And if there was no one better, it was their duty to keep going. But, maybe they could have a little help along the way.

“We’ve been discussing exactly that.” Cass spoke first, “We can't in good conscience abandon our post, but Berk is just as much our home. If there are spans of time where we might take leave, then we have no objections in carrying on with our arrangement. Especially next summer, we’ve made a promise to Ruadhán that we have every intention of keeping.”

“A fair compromise.” the emir hummed, “It's not a strange thing, to spend weeks traveling even for business. But if I may ask, what is the nature of this promise?”

“We may have found a place his mother told him stories about.” he answered, after a moment, “It's along the way, and we offered to take him there. To find family, just to see it, we don't really know what’ll happen when we get there. But he wants to know where he's from, and we can't deny him that.”

Khayran’s face fell, “You think he still has family abroad?”

“Stranger things’ve happened.” he shrugged weakly.

“And if there is..?” Khayran probed.

He swallowed hard, and clenched his fist to hide the trembling, “It's Ru’s choice.”

“You would let him go? After all this?” Khayran’s brows knit hard.

“If he asked it of us, we’d give him anything.” Cass said for him.

They both **ached** too much to explain further, but Khayran seemed to understand, slumping in his chair and scrubbing a hand over his face.

“You're braver men than most, in many ways.” the emir said in time.

“He's not a thing to keep.” he said, biting hard at his lip to stem fresh tears.

“But it is still a matter of ‘if’.” Khayran tried to offer.

“Yes. Better to be ready for the worst, and _hope_ for the best. We already planned to move on to Berk, if there's nothing but rocks and sea. It's… something to hold on to.” Cass said, just as torn as he was.

“My apologies, for dwelling on such matters.” Khayran murmured, “And thank you, for the warning. There are plenty of empty rooms near yours to keep a close eye on  _certain_ parties, those can be ready in short order.” 

“I don't imagine they’ll be here in less than five days… Well, there's no way of knowing _when_ they left, but they're flying with a Gronckle so they won't be fast regardless, so maybe three days?” he rambled, “Can’t miss them though, the twins ride a dragon with  _two heads.”_

Khayran’s jaw dropped in unmasked shock and Eret honestly tried not to laugh, he really did. At least Cass was laughing with him.

The walk back home was quiet, but heavy, and Cassian’s thought’s buzzed around his ears like so many flies, too many and too fast to track, so he let his husband mull through it in his own time. He’d hear it soon enough.

“You… would be alright, moving here?” Cass finally asked, voice wavering.

Without a word, he took Cass’s hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss his ring.

“Anywhere you are is home.” he said, soft and sincere, “I'm sure Vega can hold down the fort while we’re away, and a week or three might not be much… but the visiting can go both ways, this isn't goodbye. It's a sacrifice, can't deny that, but the _good_ we can do? It'll be worth it in the end.”

Cass stopped short, stepping closer as cool palms rose to cup his cheeks and his beautiful, garnet eyes swam with tears.

“You really are a miracle from God.” his husband said, choking with reverence and awe.

He needn’t have bothered with a witty reply, Cass kissed him soundly before he could utter a single word and **adoration** sparked between them like lightning-

“Wait, wait-" he gasped between kisses, “Cass, we’re in the middle of the street!”

 _“And?”_ Cass huffed, but his smile was teasing.

“Who’s the goat now?” he teased back, before kissing the tip of his husband’s nose.

“Eret!” he groaned, ducking away. But he still smiled, that's what mattered.

“C’mon, let's get home before Yahya weasels in again.” he squeezed Cass’s waist-

And Cass froze, stiff from a sharp spike of **horror** as his face went ashen.

“We _have_ to keep Ruffnut away from him.” Cass croaked.

“Oh no. Odin _no_ we can't let her see him.”

“It's bad enough they don't speak any Andalusi, we can't let them out of our sight!”

“Please, _please_ Hiccup keep their scrawny rears on Berk-”

Anticipation made time drag, but life had to go on. With each frame done they could start another saddle, and since so much was already made the work flew by. Relatively. It was still laborious with the sewing and padding and nailing, but they had more than enough hands for it, even _Yahya_ pulled his weight. Ori hung around most of the afternoon, content to watch while Vega helped Ragnar secure supplies with their new funds, and if Griselda tagged along with them..? He might've seen their fellow rider off with a sly wink. Vega nearly throttled him of course, but her furious blush was worth it. Ah, and the newest Featherfall frame was good to come off the irons…

“Alright, once this’s nailed together she’s all yours Yahya!” he announced.

The princeling almost fell off his bench, “Wait,  _already?”_

“Yeah, this’s an easy style so we could rush it in.” he shrugged, "The other parts are already cut- Ru, can you fetch those? Thanks. And, uh… just wanted to warn you.”

Yahya went still, brows pinching.

“We’re expecting some visitors from up north, and one, well to put it simply, she’s boy-crazy and doesn't care how anyone else feels about it. Now we don't know for _sure_ that she's coming, we still have to wait and see. Just, thought we’d let you know.” he shuddered, “I've been a victim to it myself.”

“But, you don't-” 

“Yeah, she doesn't care. At all. But we’re gonna move earth and sky to keep her away from you.” he rubbed at his neck. Why did it ache so much?

“Women are _allowed_ to act in such a way where you’re from?” Yahya grimaced.

“I wouldn't say ‘allowed’, no one actually approves if it. But up north, things are different. In a village of less than 200, everybody has to work to survive.” he shrugged, “Some of our best warriors are women, and brightest dragon scholars, racers, explorers… and those’re just the ones I’ve  _met._ There are dozens more stories from Hiccup’s travels.” 

“There are scholars and poets aplenty in Cordoba, lady ones I mean.” Yahya coughed awkwardly, “But to pursue a man on her own, that's just…”

“Yeah, I get it. Like I said, we’ll be keeping a very close eye on her.” 

“I- thank you.” 

“Here!” Ru dumped an armful of canvas and leather down, “Under-padding, buckles, straps, seat, canvas top, it's all in order.”

“There, you can get stitching. Give a shout if you aren't sure where something goes.” he nudged a few pieces around, just to check. Flawless of course.

“If- if I could ask.” Yahya said, quick and quiet, “I don't mean to pry, but I haven't seen Naji in a few days. Is… everything alright?”

Ruadhán visibly tensed at the other table, turning slowly to glower over his shoulder. _Brothers indeed,_ and damn if that didn't set his heart aching.

“So far as I know, yes. Ru still meets him up for a morning run, he might just be busy.” he answered.

“Right, yes. I- thank you, that’s- that is good to know.” Yahya stammered.

Ru stared openly now, one brow arching to the sky, absolutely disbelieving as their eyes met.

“Wow.” the boy whispered, “Even I'm not that bad.”

He fought a giggle, leaving Yahya to his work and ruffling Ru’s hair as he passed.

“Eh, he's young too. Just keep being Naji’s friend, yeah?” he smiled easily.

“Oh… you know about that?” Ru winced.

“Hey, it's fine! In fact, I have it on good authority that the emir’s over the moon about Naji having a proper friend.” he leaned in close and conspiratorial for that bit, “You can have your own life too, we don't need to know _everything._ If you're going somewhere we’d like to get a shout of course, in case we need to find you.”

“Yeah yeah.” Ru huffed, mussing his curls back into place, “And he _has_ been busy, some project he said was a surprise. Dunno what.”

“Hopefully a better surprise than the twins would’ve been. Bless Safiyah.”

They sent a few dragons out east after lunch on the third day, just in case. The rooms were ready by then, just a short walk away from theirs, with a similar wide street and courtyard out front for easy access. A surprise the whole affair may be, but Eret was actually happy to see Valka again. He missed all of Berk something awful, and they could only travel safely for half the year. They had to make the most of it, even if that did include the Thorstons.

He knew Cass would find him up on the Alcazaba walls, looking out at the sunset on the ocean. With an arm offered his husband tucked in close, not caring one bit about the lingering heat or sweat. They could always remedy that later, maybe in the cove…

“It's beautiful.” he murmured absently, resting his cheek on Cass’s head.

He only got a humm of agreement as Cass slipped an arm around his waist.

“If someone told me before the Shetlands, that in the span of three years I’d be free, riding dragons, married to the love of my life and watching the sun go down half a world away…” he chuckled weakly, “I’d’ve pitched them over a rail.”

“And you left out revenge on Drago, speaking to dragons and adopting a son.” Cass laughed with him, “Stopping two wars, bringing dragons back to the world…”

“Finding our families, meeting kings…” he shifted, dropping a kiss to Cass’s brow.

“And all the while, being the most _devastatingly_ handsome men in Europa.”

His husband’s tone was light, only half-teasing as he turned, standing on tip-toes to kiss him properly. Oh, if only they weren't up on some wall-

“There you are!” they started apart as Crush sailed by, bearing a very-ruffled Ru, “Yahya’s parked in front of our door, I'm not letting him in this time!”

_“Again?”_

“Feed an alleycat once, he’ll never leave you be…”

Fourth day, and so far all was clear. Well, it _was_ still early and Ruadhán was out for a run… It wasn't too hot yet either. Rumbling, he rolled over and nuzzled into Cassian’s chest. The tiny curls of hair there tickled something fierce, but it was… he couldn't call it anything but _alluring._ The rasp and scratch of his still-growing beard sent Eret’s heart pounding too, it was so strange. But damn if it wasn't-

“Mm, well good morning to _you.”_ Cass murmured, voice still rough with sleep.

“Always is, on days like this.” he hummed, peppering kisses along the little slivers of umber skin bared by the oversized nightshirt. One of his own, of course.

Cass sighed, radiating **bliss** as fingers carded deep into his hair, scratching over his scalp, down his neck, rubbing slow circles there… oh, there, _there-_

“So demanding!” Cass purred, pressing harder at the base of his neck, whole _hand_ wrapping and kneading until he jerked from the sparks that shot right down his spine.

“Cass!" he gasped, but- “Ru’ll be back any minute!”

“Tura’s keeping watch, we’ve got time.” his husband soothed, palm pressing against his heart.

Well, couldn't argue with that. Clothes were abandoned piece by piece in a rush to the bathroom, where there was oil to slick their hands, their cocks, enough to roll so _deliciously_ together. It was fast, wet, desperate, nails digging into hips and shoulders, teeth grazing skin, tugging lips, until finally pleasure burst between them, white-hot and tingling. Cass sagged and Eret eased him down, bit by bit, to the edge of the empty tub, chasing his mouth for breathless kisses and there, they rested, just for a moment.

“Sometimes, quick is just as good.” Cass sighed, grin easy and eyes unfocused.

“Yeah... needed that.” he groaned as another shiver arched through him, _them_ like lightning.

Then he yelped as a ticklish pinch bit into his thigh, then other on his rear before he could get away. Protest didn't save him either, and there was nowhere to run.

Breakfast and lessons and saddles, think about _anything_ but incoming visitors. Yahya was still hard at work, slow and painstaking with every stitch, far slower than he was capable of but his concentration was… well, encouraging. He was taking this _seriously._ Ru still wasn't too happy with him, probably for both his continued interest in Naji and intrusions into their home. They'd… have to keep an eye on that.

“So, any sign of Val yet?” Gobber called from across the shop.

“No, not yet.” he shook his head fondly, “Careful, you almost sound like you miss her!”

“He misses the bickering!” Dad laughed, dancing away from Gobber’s tongs.

“And my _nephew_ you old seal!”

“Wait, Fish is your nephew?” he looked back in surprise.

“Eh…” Gobber paused, counting something out over his fingers, “By… marriage? Close enough!”

“How’s this never come up before?” he asked. Gobber just shrugged.

“I'm sure Fish’ll be over the moon either way.” Dad turned back to his work, “And you've got them all set up with a room?”

“Yeah, close to us on account of the twins.” he huffed, it was too damn _hot._

“Probably a good idea…” Gobber swiped a rag over his brow, “And maybe they’ll get the _Snotlout_ treatment.”

“Wait, the what?” his father squinted.

“Hiccup made the wonderful mistake of sending Snotlout off on a week-long trip with Cass. You've had the luxury of knowing him at his best, but he was prickly as a pinecone before.” he explained. Thank the gods for his husband.

Dad just chuckled, “Say no more, I can imagine the rest!”

“I'm not holding my breath though, Snotlout didn't have a twin to spool him up…”

“Well, we’ll see. If anyone can pull a surprise from nowhere, it's the Thorstons…”

Four days it was. It was Datura that rushed back to report the incoming visitors, just as they were sitting down for dinner, _without_ Yahya thank Odin. **Here, close!** she mewled, nosing in between the screens and bullying over Crush for space. When he pressed, **asking** about Barf&Belch, she huffed, auricles folding flat. **Also coming** she stuck her tongue out in disgust and Crush whined, falling flat in defeat.

“Welp, we’ve got a full crew.” he groaned, kneading his eyes.

 _“Great.”_ Ru grumbled, throwing his head back dramatically. Gods he loved this kid.

“And we’ll intercept Valka. You _might_ be a bit of a shock.” Cass added.

“Oh damn…” he winced, “Good thinking luv. Might have half an hour to go, so let's get moving.”

They ate and cleaned up quickly, a shame because it was _delicious,_ made themselves a little more presentable, then **called** the whole flock in. The Stormcutters were off to Cordoba for a while, the Wraiths were at the forge like always, but everyone else was close enough to answer.

“Shade, perfect! We might need you keeping B and B on their best behavior.” he gave the dragon a scratch as she passed, “I know, I know, I'm sorry, but we have to. Oleander, Amanita, Scorpion, you can take turns watching the twins.”

They all grumbled their **offense** and **dissent** , at least until Skullcrusher snorted, growling **must** above the squabbling. It was more than that, more like **duty,** and Nightshade was the first to **relent.** The Reapers followed, after a pointed look from their mother and father.

“All the belly-rubs we can handle after they're gone, I promise.” he skritched each in turn, lingering on Scorpion. He couldn't help having a favorite.

“Come now, to the street-” Cass paused, “Who was- Naji?”

Caduceus wheeled overhead again, just skimming the rooftops on his loop back to the main path and Ru was the first to sprint after them.

“Those two…” he couldn't even put words to it, but _gods_ if Ru didn't deserve this.

“Yes.” Cass took his hand, slowly folding their fingers together, “They're stuck just as fast as Safiyah and I were, and so _quickly._ Miracles upon miracles…”

“Wouldn't’ve believed in miracles before all this either.” he lifted their hands, pressing a kiss to their joined knuckles, “Let's go, before they knock something over.”

“ _Yes_ my love…”

As they expected, Ru and Naji were huddled close, their whispers quick with excitement and Caduceus **buzzed** with the same energy. Dragons all around were starting to pick up on something and soon the voices rolled in: **coming, new friends, strangers, almost here.** He couldn't quite see far enough, the air was too heavy with heat and dust, but a passing Featherfall was more than happy to help and- there, coming in from the east! Cloudjumper, Meatlug, Barf and Belch… and more. Sunset and the kids maybe? Had to be, those were Stormcutters for sure.

“Hey, Vino, go lead them in?” he nudged the young Fury, who only **agreed** with Datura’s insistence.

The smallest male took off, flashing red and violet and green under the setting sun as he rushed to join the incoming flock. Maybe it was just his bias showing, but Vino had to be the prettiest of the Fury pack. Or, at least tied with Idunna in purple-gold. It always came back to purple, didn't it?

Cass snickered beside him, eyes sly and gleaming when he snuck a peek.

“Shut up.” he grumbled, cheeks warming, “And stop peeking.”

“Stop thinking so loud then.” Cass goaded, “Now come, before one of them bursts.”

On cue, Naji looked up and he was absolutely beaming, “Is it true? A dragon with  _two_ heads?” 

“Absolutely! Zipplebacks aren't the only ones either.” he answered, smile coming easy.

“There's another like the Deeptreader, manta-shaped with two heads, but on very short necks. They can't leave the ocean I'm afraid, or fly.” Cass continued.

“But they're almost here, just another minute.” oh, right, “And I apologize in advance for the twins, we’ve got plans to keep them on their… almost-best behavior.”

“And they don't speak and Andalusi, so you'll have to pardon Valka and Fishlegs if they get a bit carried away in their excitement.” Cass chuckled.

“Oh. Well, that's not so bad.” Naji shrugged, and turned to scan the skies with them, “There! That must be them!”

The flock was just visible to the human eye now, and Vino fluttered all around them, urging Cloudjumper towards the Alcazaba. There was plenty of space, but Caduceus still took a few steps off to the side to clear the center. A few minutes more, **weary** dragons landed one by one, and Eret could've choked. Valka _cut off her hair?!_ Not all of it sure, but it was barely longer than his now, all bound back in one thick braid. She’d dressed for the weather too, all light cottons from last year’s gifts and Fishlegs was much the same, and they gladly abandoned their saddles for solid ground. The dragons too, simply flopped where they stood, too tired to move much further. Fair enough, they'd earned a good rest.

“Good to see you made it here in one piece!” he extended a hand as Valka approached-

But she crushed him into a hug instead. _Damn_ he’d forgotten about those.

“So, who warned you? I didn’t think Astrid could hold a pen long enough, her stomach’s even worse this time!” Valka teased.

“Not Astrid, it was Saf-” wait. _Wait._

Shock stole his breath and Valka just laughed, deep and giddy, “She swears it's a boy this time!”

“Astrid, she’s-” he gasped, and when she nodded he swept her right off her feet.

Round and round they spun, both laughing until someone- _Cass_ caught him by the arm, slowing and stopping him with just a touch. Right, right…

“Sorry! Sorry…” he panted, and set Valka down for another hug, “But- _Freya_ that's incredible!”

“Maybe this one will behave himself a bit better than Finna.” Cass chuckled along, “Wait, if Astrid’s expecting and so is Ghadir… Ha! They’ll be twins from afar!”

“The more the merrier!”

“But _nobody_ can beat the originals!”

And just like that, the fun was over.

“Safiyah warned us about _them_ too.” he grumbled, “I'm guessing they snuck along?”

“Yes.” Valka sighed, weary and long-suffering as she kneaded her temples, “I am _so_ sorry.”

“We’re prepared. They won't _sneeze_ without us knowing.” Cass said.

Right on cue, Nightshade and the Reapers crowded around the twins and their Zippleback, hissing **behave, quiet, still.** Barf&Belch slowly relented, twin voices chiming **agreement.**

“Ruin _all_ the fun why dontcha.” Ruffnut groused, crossing her arms.

“We’re men of titles here, and as our _uninvited_ guests all your behavior will reflect on _us.”_ Cass snapped, “You will be under watch until the day we can trust you not to level the city on a whim! This isn’t Berk and we won't just let you destroy the place.”

“And don't act like I didn't tell you the same thing all the way here.” Valka added.

“We _can_ behave you know..” Ruffnut said in a half-hearted protest.

“Well start surprising us for the better.” he turned about and gestured up the street, “Your rooms are this way, they'll bring breakfast and dinner by, and you can come and go as you please- Legs?”

Oh, where else would he be. At least Caduceus humored the man’s giddy observations and Naji… well, he stared in something like awe and horror. Fishlegs wasn't even that tall!

“Right. So, this is Naji, he’s the emir’s son. Basically the chief? Under the caliph, who’s the king. We have the nephew of _that_ guy hanging around too. Then there's Caduceus, handsome fella here, and…” no avoiding it now that the dragons were moving, “I'm sure you've heard all about Ruadhán.”

The boy wasn't hard to miss, once he ducked under and around Caduceus’s neck, and the _sound_ that left Valka… quiet though it was, that little pained gasp was heartbreaking.

“Oh… Gobber was right.” she trembled, like a shiver, “Just a little but, _Eret,_ you- the both of you-”

“Yes, we know.” Cass patted her shoulder, “And he’s _soared_ ever since. But you've had a long trip, I'm sure you're exhausted. We can give you the full tour tomorrow.”

“Yes, a proper bed sounds wonderful.” Valka sighed, and tore her eyes away.

“You too Fishlegs, don't make us call on Meatlug!” he teased.

The man turned reluctantly away, stifling a yawn, “Hate when you're right. That last stretch was a real slog, and Meatlug almost fell asleep!”

The Gronckle huffed her **dissent** and butted against Fishlegs’ back to force him along, only dignifying Caduceus with a brief **acknowledgement.** Cloudjumper was far more polite in his **curiosity,** as were Sunset and the brood hiding behind her wings. But it was time to move, get them put up for the night…

And finally retreat to the safety of their home, once they had Flutterkites watching every door and window. He trusted the Thorstons as far as he could throw them… which was probably still farther than he trusted them.

“Can we take mysteriously, conveniently ill tomorrow?” Cass groaned, scrubbing his face.

“I wish luv. But we give the twins an inch, they'll take all of al-Mariyah.” he took his seat at the table, as Ruadhán settled in his.

“Dunno… they looked pretty miffed. The things you were saying, that was a little harsh. Maybe.” Ru shrugged, looking away.

“Maybe.” he mumbled, biting down on a prickle of shame, “But it's for a reason. I'm not gonna just forgive Ruff for _pawing_ at me like I was nothing but a ham.”

Even years later his skin crawled, itching and too-tight and _wrong_ for a brief, sickening moment-

Until Cass draped over his back, palms smoothing the sensation away.

 **You aren't wrong,** his husband’s voice came just as gentle, **her actions were deplorable, and you don't have to make nice. I can do the wrangling.**

 **I love you,** he sighed, sagging into Cass’s arms, **we’ll see what the day holds.**

“Like we said…” he spoke properly, “Tuffnut isn't too bad on his own, and you’ll like Legs.”

“And Valka’s _Hiccup’s_ mom, the one that was married to Stoick.” Ru squinted.

“Yes. She missed a good deal of Hiccup’s life though, when Cloudjumper… well, you can only call it kidnapping I suppose. He carried her away through one of the Red Death’s raids, and she spent the next 20 years living among dragons.” Cass shifted, settling more comfortably at his side, “And they reunited shortly after _we_ met.”

“Wait, _20 years?”_ Ru reared back in shock, “She just stayed away? Why couldn't she go back if Cloudjumper was her friend?”

Cass winced, “I… can only guess, she doesn't like to speak of it. But the house was half-wrecked and burning as they flew away. If she saw it collapse, with no sign of Stoick or Hiccup escaping… she might've assumed they had perished, that there was nothing to go back _to._ Even going near Berk would have been too painful.”

“Oh…” wilting, Ru chewed on his lip, “That… yeah. That makes a little sense.”

“We’re only human and sometimes… we don't make the best choices. Hell, she probably wasn't much older than _Yahya_ at the time.” he mused.

“A _lot_ of sense.” Ru corrected, “Dunno what Stoick could have looked like for me to be a near match though.”

“There's a statue on Berk, I saw him once or twice, but he was nearly 50 with the _biggest_ beard I've ever seen, so I'm as clueless as you are.” he shrugged, smiling softly.

“I barely have _leg_ hair, don't rush me.” the boy scoffed, playfully rolling his eyes.

“Dunno, I think I see a little fuzz sprouting on your lip there.” he snorted, “You'll be slowing Crush down before long! All that growing won't help either.”

 _“Better_ be growing.” Ru grumbled, flopping over the table, “Everything aches, all the time.”

“Caduceus could help.” Cass said, heavy with concern.

Ruadhán slowly frowned, “He doesn't need to use it all on me, Naji’s mom needs it more. And, they've- they've been trying to help other people, getting that goo out and into bottles so it can go _everywhere._ Naji didn't want me to tell you yet, he's still trying to find a way to mist it like Cads does but… he's so _close._ And there’re sick people that need it more.”

This boy… Vega wasn't kidding about a pure heart, and damn if they couldn't love him all the more.

“We’ll take a look tomorrow, there has to be _something_ for aches and pains.” he promised.

“I know an old remedy, don't worry.” Cass squeezed his arm, “I bet Valka would adore the chance to show off tomorrow, if she's up in time for practice.”

“Oh you know she would.” he snorted, “And she’ll probably find a thousand ways we’ve been doing it wrong. Maybe it's a good thing she doesn't speak Andalusi.”

“Yes maybe. She'd have them jumping off dragons and flying through rocks on their fist day!”

“Never gonna let that go, are you?”

“No! I could've _died!”_

“You did _fine.”_

“Oh don't act like _you_ didn't lose your mind, you almost fainted!”

So, that's how they were gonna play? Cass got no warning, Eret simply scooped him up and dragged him over, jamming fingers under Cass’s arms, his neck, _tickling_ wherever his defenses dropped. Laughter, bright and breathless, rang into the night.

***

“Who’dthey think they _are?”_ Ruffnut hissed under her breath, still fuming.

“You heard ‘em Ruff, they work for the man in charge so they gotta keep up with the fancy stuff.” her lesser half drawled, “Heh, rhyming.”

“We fly all the way here, and they treat us like we already wrecked something!” she threw herself off the bed to start pacing, “We haven't blown up anything in months!”

“We kinda did invite ourselves over. And by ‘we’ I mean _you.”_ Tuff scoffed, “What’dyou wanna come for anyway? You _hate_ the heat.”

“Maybe I was bored!” she threw up her hands, “We don't go off adventuring like we used to, and why should Hiccup and Snotlout get to have all the fun?”

 _“Totally_ not because Fishlegs was going.” damn his smug grin, “C’mon, you _know_ he started chatting up Heather again. Both your boy’ve flown the coop!”

“D’you _have_ to rub it in?”

“What, you thought they would wait around forever? A man has needs Ruff, and no man’s gonna wait for three years while you play picksey-choosey.” he scoffed again, “Dunno why you kept up the back and forth, you didn't even like them! What about that Throk guy?”

“Too needy.” she grumbled, crossing her arms, “And I hate poetry.”

“Single men don't grow on trees, can't feel ‘em up like fruit either.” that barb was a little more pointed.

“What.”

“Don't ‘what’ me, you _know_ what I mean.”

“I _really_ don't.”

“And that's why they still don't like you. Good _night_ Ruff.”

Just like that, the conversation was over and Tuffnut turned away, pulling the pillow over his head. Big baby, couldn't talk what he thought. Whatever, she’d sleep and then tomorrow they could see what was down here worth staying for. At least the windows were placed just right to let Barf shove his head in, and he was something familiar to lill her to sleep through all the strange sounds, smells, creaks and cracks…

***

Why was Ruff so stupidly stubborn? And stubbornly stupid? Tuffnut wiggled deeper into the pillows, desperate for a cool spot. Let's go too, she said, it'll be _fun_ she said, knowing he wouldn't let her go anywhere on her own. Even if he did, what was he supposed to do with no dragon? So here he was, in the sweltering heat knowing three words of the local talk, with nothing to do. At least they could get more of that fantastic leather on the way back…

“They really don't like me?” Ruff’s voice snapped him out of floaty near-dreaming.

“Ruff, go to _sleep.”_ he groaned, and Belch grumbled with him.

“Can't…”

...just for once, he wished he didn't care about his sister.

“Fine, real talk. You were _really_ gross about Eret. the fawning was bad enough, but then you have to get all handsy!” it still made his skin crawl, ugh, “Seriously, why would you think that's okay? You'd break a guys jaw for even looking at you wrong, and that's after _I_ broke his jaw! And you haven't apologized either.”

“Guys can have ‘needs’ but girls can't?” Ruff tried to protest.

“I repeat: broken. Jaw. and you _know_ that's not the same thing!”

“Well- so what? That was ages ago!”

“And still no apology!”

“Whaddaya want me to even do?” she half-whispered.

“We’re a package deal Ruff, so when they don't like you, they don't like _me_ either. How’s that fair?” he pouted, more than a little bitter, “It's never just _you_ doing something, we both pay for it cuz no one trusts us.”

He sat up, glowering at the other side of the room, “You think I _like_ being the village joke? Even Snotlout’s growing up, why can't you?”

“We’re the Thorston twins, _the_ troublemakers, it's our brand!”

“And maybe I wanna be more than that for once!” he snapped, too loud-

“Go to _bed.”_ Valka growled from deeper in the house.

Huffing, he flopped back into the pillows, too hot and too aggravated to sleep now. At least Ruff gave up on talking.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Join us on Discord for art, music, and history!](https://discord.gg/XreED3Ytqm)

He hated waking up, and getting out of bed, even for dragons and breakfast and family bonding. But the prospect of the twins getting bored… that was terrifying enough to get Cassian up, washed, and eating before Eret had even sat up completely. Ru was likewise up before his husband, helping himself to a dragon’s share of the berries and yogurt. Ah, to be a growing boy with a bottomless stomach…

“Off on a run then?” he prodded, as Ru tore off more bread.

“Yeah, I'm late though so I'll meet you for practice.” he replied with his mouth full.

“Alright, but go easy or you'll give yourself a stomach ache, on top of everything else.”

Smirking, he snatched the bunch of grapes off Ru’s plate while the boy was too busy rolling his eyes to defend his catch.

“Hey!”

“Walked into that one Ru.” Eret snorted, voice still rough with sleep. Beautiful, it was.

"I managed to save you some scraps from the _ravages_ of a starving dragon.” he teased, dragging his husband down, “Come, catch up to us.”

“Still the same plan?” Eret asked, stifling a yawn, “Damn, slept hard…”

“Yes, my love.” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek, “And, good. You'll need it.”

“Don't remind me.” Eret huffed, and loaded up the rest of his plate.

Ruadhán left before they did, with Crush and Foxglove hot on his heels and what a _vision_ they were together. But, there was work to do. Get ready for the day, send Eret ahead to get started, and he would collect their guests. Hopefully they were awake.

“I'll be along shortly.” he promised, stealing a kiss before they parted.

“Hmm, one more.” Eret pulled him back for another, “For the road.”

He snorted, laughing easily, “May it give you strength!”

They were running late, so Eret broke into a jog towards the training yard, grinning beautiful and bright. At least there was a nice start to the day. He made his way through the little streets, one turn then another, to the only other wide court where all the visiting dragons lounged. A **greeting** roused them, and Meatlug was the first to her feet, all abuzz with **curiosity** . **Kin?** she grunted, **kin where?**

“All in good time, dear lady.” he laughed, “First we have to get everyone up!”

Cloudjumper was all too happy to help, turning to snuffle and croon **here, hurry** into a particular window. The reply must not’ve been polite, as he grumbled **up** more insistently, with Sunset joining in. proper voices rose inside, and Meatlug took to the air to harry him toward the door. **Up, get! Get rider!** she gurgled.

“I'm going, have patience!” he waved her off, “Come now, you know how mornings go!”

The shutters in front of Cloudjumper flung open, nearly striking him across the nose before they hit the outer walls. Valka leaned hard on the sill, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“What is it?” she groaned, “‘Jumper no, ‘s too early...”

Oh dear. “Was the room alright? I know it's awfully hot, we may be able to do something…”

“The bed was fine, the heat tolerable, but the _company_ was arguing all night.” Valka glowered hotly back into the house, “Honestly, that girl…”

“Well, I've volunteered to keep an eye on them, but you can go judge our teaching if you like. The training grounds are that way.” he waved downhill, “It's a shame there aren't any other Stormcutters here, you could _really_ teach them a thing or two.”

“Flatterer.” she scoffed, but with a measure of fondness, “Alright, I'm coming…”

He left them to it, since Cloudjumper wanted to sit by the window and his children crowded in. But Barf and Belch were still fast asleep around the corner, no need to make them miss out. **Wake up,** he prodded, patting the Zippleback’s flank, **up** and **get food.** How in the world could they sleep with their heads stuffed in a window? Two different windows. Better than trying to sneak in, he supposed. Belch was the first to stir, long neck slowly withdrawing until his head flopped into the dust. With a slow, bleary blink, half the dragon chirped **food?**

“Yes, _food._ Both of you need to be awake for that, now come.”

With a long rumble, Belch roused, pushing and shoving at his other half until Barf too emerged back into the light. They grumbled and nattered back and forth, and that was enough to get their riders waking up as well.

 _“Up_ you two! You can sleep later.” Valka’s voice rang from inside.

“Don't wanna…” Ruffnut whined.

“Nope, if I gotta be conscious so do you!” Tuff said.

“Hey, what- _noNONO-!”_ desperate protest ended with a squawk and a hollow thud.

“Be out in a minute.” Tuffnut announced with a resigned sigh.

Well, he could kill a moment or three and check on the dragons. **Hurt?** he asked gently, or **tired?** **Tired,** Barf whined, so **far,** so **warm…** Belch nudged him about, **up, food** after **up. Food,** out **there** he agreed, stooping to haul Barf’s face out of the dirt. 

“Come now, if the babies can be up and ready so can you. And I'm sure you'll get lots of attention, _especially_ from my nieces.” he coaxed the dragon a little farther up and out with a chin scratch, “They're twins too you know. You'll _love_ Basira.”

Both heads jolted like they’d been struck by lightning, perfectly awake and nearly vibrating with how fast their paws drummed on the ground. **Go go, take take!** they demanded, so quickly it left him dizzy.

“Now hold on, they have chores and so do we! You'll need to be patient.”

Grumbling, a head caught him under each arm to hurry him out, still huffing **go go!**

“You _had_ to tell them.” Valka, his savior, hooked Belch by a horn to tug him away, “As if one set of twins wasn't bad enough!”

“Technically, the Thorston’s make three.” he cracked a wry grin, “My nieces, plus my father and Uncle. So how about we meet _him_ first, you overcomplicated eel.”

 **More? More?** They chimed together, finally letting him escape.

“Nicely played.” Valka chortled, “Fishlegs is gathering his tools, the twins will be out in a moment.”

“Fine by me. But if I may ask, what happened to your hair?”

“Finna learned a new trick.” she groused, “Throwing food for the Terrors to chase. She’s got her mother’s arm already, nailed my with a chicken leg from five paces! The dragons did the rest, but at least I'm not the _only_ victim.”

“Who else-” the door swung open, and he found his answer.

Their helmets had hidden the damage, for all he’d cared to look the day before. Ruffnut’s locks were gone by half, and Tuffnut was shorn nearly to the _scalp._ At least Tuff looked better for it, those matted coils were frankly awful and the smell had been ghoulish. They yawned, scrubbing at the bags under their eyes, and despite himself Cassian felt a twinge of sympathy.. Must not’ve slept well, after coming so far to a new, strange land… At least their dragon was happy to see them, and left him be to bother their respective riders.

“Okay, what’s first?” Fishlegs wedged himself out of the door, trembling with glee.

Well, at least _someone_ was chipper, “We’ll introduce you to the guard first, once practice is started you can show off all you like. Meatlug already had adoring fans!”

“As she _should.”_ Fishlegs preened, “Lead the way then!”

“It's a short walk, but I can show you the gardens along the way.”

And so, they walked. But once they broke free into the main road and had room to spread out, Valka hooked his arm to drag him behind a wall of Stormcutters- Ah, _that_ look. Of course she would have more pressing questions.

“So, all is well with the Bewilderbeast.” she said, voice tight, “Even with the fleet?”

“Yes, he’s slowly healing. And the old warlords are staying the course, if you noticed the change in decor. The young caliph is well on his way to being a decent man, and finally bonded with a dragon of his own…” he rattled on, “So, all is well. We won't get complacent of course, word will surely spread and new challengers will rise, but we’ll be ready for them. It was a rather recent discussion, but… there's something we must tell you, once we’re all together.”

Valka’s face fell, but she knew him well enough to wait just a little longer.

“So… Ruadhán.” she chose to change tack, “I see why Gobber was so shocked. And a _dragonspeaker_ on top of it all? Maybe someone up there is playing favorites.”

She gestured broadly to the sky without naming names, and… he was grateful. It wasn't Thor or Odin they had to thank here. Still, he couldn't help but agree.

“Miracles upon miracles.” his smile returned, “Lil’ Crush and Foxglove were on him in an instant, and they've been utterly inseparable ever since. There have been a few… misadventures, but nothing we can't handle.”

“Oh, I've certainly heard stories about _Hiccup_ at that age.” Valka laughed with him, “But nothing’s burning, so it can't be that extreme. No, he seems like a smart young man.”

“He’s smart as a _whip_ Valka, clever at anything he tries!” he said giddily, “Saddles, riding, even the _politics_ he's taken too like a duck to water!”

“Ah, it must be infectious! I certainly hope this city can handle all three of you.”

He hoped so too, they were going to be here for an awfully long time after all.

Practice was already well under way when they arrived. Dragons of all sorts and their riders drilled back and forth, running and chasing, launching and landing hard, flying in pairs or quartets… they’d really come a long way, even _Javan._ That Gronckle never gave up on him, bless her heart…

“Could be worse.” Valka had to admit, after a long moment of study, “Hard to _truly_ judge, given they don't have proper saddles. I'm sure you'll have that remedied shortly, now that _those_ people are here.”

“Once, I would’ve agreed with that sentiment but… it seems we missed one detail from the whole final battle.” at the curious looks, he continued, “When Eret fell, Ragnar was the one that called his men off, he _spared_ Eret’s life. Of course it was for his own ends, but all of _this_ exists because of it. Ragnar paid his dues in blood that same day, and when I saved Ori I repaid a life for a life. I'm done with grudges, and so long as they’re committed to this I'll judge them for who they’ve become, now who they were.”

That gave Valka a moment of pause, before a resigned sigh, “At least they had the decency to strike the bone trophies and old colors, however uninspired the new ones may be.”

“It's a start, but you can ask Blue about it. Dreamer too, I’d imagine. Now, feel free to join in or relax, this should go on for another hour.”

He needn’t have bothered, Meatlug was already off and gurgling a **greeting** that brought all her kind to a dead stop, jaws dropping in awe. **You, you!** the chatter started back in earnest, and poor Javan was dragged along for the ride as the Gronckles swarmed Meatlug. Roller was the most jubilant of them all, wiggling with the force of her **excitement** and **adoration.**

“Oh, bless her.” Valka cooed, hand settling over her heart.

“I've never seen Gronckles like this!” Fishlegs babbled, already writing furiously, “Not just their shapes either, they’re so social!”

“We _did_ sing praises of you, after they joined the upper world.” he chuckled, “Come, you'll love Roller, the greenish one there. She's the leader of the pack in a way.”

“They're a _pack?_ Incredible!”

 _“Boring.”_ Ruffnut groaned, “We have Gronckles at home!”

“Those slinky brown ones look fun though.” Tuff mused, stifling another yawn.

“Of _course_ you’d like the Snipe.” he muttered under his breath, “Well, let's get down there, now that they've all stopped to stare.”

Only about half had stopped completely but most snuck glances, and most turned to _all_ when Barf&Belch fluttered down to join Meatlug, splitting their attention to study all the **new new!** faces, **new new kin!** Cassian rushed after to rein the Zippleback in, coaxing Barf away from a deeply perturbed Javan. 

“Come now, leave him be. You're quite a shock you know.” he scolded.

“Cassian, what have you brought home now?” his uncle’s voice rose above the rest.

Isra strode over, hands on his hips and smile teasing, and the dragon perked under his hands. **This one? This one?** Barf&Belch needled, **kin kin! Where kin’s-kin? Kin’s-kin?** Not **here,** he scolded, **wait, later.**

“Just an old friend Uncle! They’re a bit too nosey for their own good, and need a _lot_ of entertainment and… well, their name is a bit uncouth, even for Northern standards. Let's just call them B&B.” he chuckled.

“Each head has a name?” Isra said incredulously.

“Yes, each half is its own thinking being. It makes them devious, but easy to confuse. The whole dragon can stall out if the heads get in a disagreement.” 

**Wrong! Rude!** the Zippleback protested. 

“Oh stop it, you _know_ it's true. I've watched you run into more trees than I can count!” 

“Well, Naji should be nearly done. I'm sure he’ll be eager to investigate our new… friend.” Isra laughed, “And those two are the ones that we needed warnings for?”

“The skinny fair ones, yes.” he sighed, “We’ll keep an eye on them, don't worry.” 

“Oh I can _see_ the mischief in them.” 

“You don't know the half of it.” Eret said.

“There you are!” he scolded, “Now, how about we show them what we can do?”

All the guards were flying now, with saddles or makeshift rope harnesses, on Gronckles and Snipes and Feathrefalls and more, and all those hot-blooded young men were more than eager to show off. They mounted up and rose in formation, nimble fliers on the fringes and free to move around the stout and steady dragons, first for a lap around the Alcazaba. Or, the start of one, Sunset and Cloudjumper and their children were quick to join in, falling off Tyrian’s open right flank to watch with an appraising eye. Valka rode as she always did, standing boldly on Cloudjumper’s shoulders, braced against the wind and balanced by her staff, much to the guards’ awe.

“Don't go getting any ideas!” he shouted back to their students, then passed a challenge to Valka, “So, is our work satisfactory?”

“Acceptable, for ones so new!” she winked, “Now I do think we need to stretch our wings!”

With an eager, proud toss of his head, Cloudjumper’s wings pounded hard to surge higher, farther, giving him the freedom to roll and tumble and as always, Valka simply danced as he moved below her. Sunset and the children joined in time, offering their wings and claws and tails for Valka to swing her way through the sky, weightless and utterly at ease. The cries of awe and alarm were immediate, from man and dragon alike, and he preened a little at it all.

“She taught me everything I know!” he boasted to the flock, “And you can learn just fine by watching. She's been at this 20 years, so there's plenty to see!”

Their formation pulled apart so everyone could get a better view, and Isra took the chance to join him.

“Everything you know?” his uncle laughed, eyes crinkling from it, “That explains so much!”

“She’ll do this all day if we let her, so start studying!” he waved Isra off.

And so, they flew. Ru and Naji joined them partway through, still a bit sweaty from their run and they were just as enamored as the rest. But practice was drawing to a close, they needed to get on to work at the saddlery… which would be the perfect opportunity to have that talk. It would hurt something fierce, especially for Father, but they deserved to know.

Ru and Naji slipped off for a rinse and a change of clothes once practice was over, they would meet up at the shop after and Eret would pick up lunch at the market. A good plan, an easy plan… which left him time to think, and organize his thoughts.

Oh damnit all, Yahya was already there. The _one_ day he couldn't sleep in.

“One moment, there's someone I have to speak to.” he blurted, before slipping inside.

At least Yahya was in his favored corner, nearly out of sight behind the saddle that was _just_ shy of completion. The pommel and backrest were in place, the under-pads stuffed, a little more work on the- no, not what he was here for.

“Yahya.” he called, and the princeling only blinked in surprise, “Our guests are here, including the one we warned you about. Just stay put, and we’ll keep them busy.”

“Which..? Oh, right-” Yahya spared a glance across the shop and flinched, “Is  _that_ her?” 

After a quick look over his shoulder, Cassian relaxed, “No, that’s-”

 _“Valka_ you old gull!” Gobber cried, lurching off his bench to sweep her into a hug.

“Gobber!” she whooped, trailing into wild laughter, “Oh you old goat, put me down!”

“Hah, good to see you Valka.” Father arrived to her rescue, “And Fishlegs!”

“Your turn, c’mere!” Gobber laughed, hobbling out with his arms spread wide.

They could have their reunion, a few people were still missing after all.

“They're quite… exuberant.” Yahya observed, “All family then?”

“More or less.” he shrugged, “Valka is a widower, and the chief’s mother, Fishlegs is basically Gobber’s nephew, and the twins… no one  _really_ knows who they're related to.” 

Yahya just made a thoughtful hum, and turned back to his work.

“This is so nearly done but, I can't help but feel _something’s_ wrong.” the man said, fiddling with some straps, “I don't suppose you could..?”

“Yes, I'll take a look… oh, these are just some stay-stitches, don't forget to finish that up.” he set the piece aside, “Good, good… don't lose this buckle now-”

“So _this’s_ what you've been up to?”

“It's so _hot,_ how can you even move?”

Cassian groaned, “And  _there_ they are. Sit tight.” 

Nodding once, Yahya slowly hunched to hide behind the arch of his saddle.

“Don't touch anything please.” he spun on his heel to cross the shop.

“No paint, no carving, no decoration at all? You disappoint me Cassy.” Tuffnut shook his head.

 _“Don't_ call me that.” he snapped, “And there's no time for decoration, not with the numbers of saddles we need. There has to be _something_ for the other craftsmen to do.’

“If you say so.” rolling his eyes, Tuff moved on, “All the spare parts is a good idea though, might haveta steal that… but really, not even some little stamps? You've got this one right here with _nothing_ going for it, some patterns around the edge-”

And just like that, Tuffnut was making a beeline for Yahya and cleanly avoided his interception.

 _“Luckily_ I always come prepared!” he pulled a roll of tools from… somewhere, and sat.

“Come away from there, that's a special project!” Cassian stormed after.

“Can't be _that_ special, there's no one-” Tuff stopped, blinking owlishly, “Oh.”

“Yes, ‘oh’. Now leave him be!”

“What’s he hiding for? Ruff isn't _that_ scary. Fishlegs I'll grant him.”

“Your sister is precisely the problem.” that came out more like a growl.

“Nah, not her type. Too skinny.” Tuffnut said nonchalantly, “But really, this big ol’ piece right here, some knotwork around the border- no wait, seams, big seams…”

Through all the muttering, Yahya leaned closer, utterly bewildered.

“What’s he doing?” 

“He wants to decorate apparently, he's a fairly skilled leatherworker.” 

“But that's part of the padding? He shouldn't waste his time on that.” 

Slowly, and not rudely, Yahya pulled that piece back before Tuffnut could set his tools to leather, and replaced it with what looked like part of the backrest pad.

“Uh..?” Tuff shot him a look.

“Not a good selection. No sense putting your work where it won't be seen.” he explained. This was getting tiring…

“Fair enough.” Tuffnut shrugged, and scored a line within the borders, “What’s this for anyway?”

“A Featherfall, the spotty ones with the frill-manes. A proper beauty too, all red and gold.” he said, folding his arms.

“Good details on those, I can work with that.” a soft hum started as Tuff worked, “It's really not _that_ hard to put a little something on all this leather, where’s all the fun? Scales for paint and dye, you've got the tools for it here- thanks by the way- what’s stopping you?”

“That can come in time, and these saddles aren't _for_ fun. The guards get served first, we need seasoned fighters ready just… just in case.” worry dragged at him despite everything.

So Tuff worked and Yahya actually watched with keen, honest interest, shoving the frame aside to have an unobstructed view. It seemed between blinks a whole pattern was suddenly _there,_ braided knotwork around a rampant dragon in the Berkian style, scored into the leather without a single error and ready for burnishing.

“That _fast.”_ Yahya murmured, “Half of Cordoba could go up in flames from envy.”

“It's a good thing he doesn't speak Andalusi.” he chuckled, "Else his head would swell too big to fly home!”

“Lunch is here!” his husband announced just outside the door.

“Finally!” Tuffnut abandoned his work, and Yahya’s face fell.

“Oh don't worry, he's not done yet. We have our own business to discuss, so… feel free to keep working. Don't forget those stay-stitches, and the buckle.” he instructed before following.

“Right, right- thank you.” that came so natural and sincere, Cassian nearly stopped in his tracks. There was hope for the man yet.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, and it only grew when he found everyone, even Naji and Ru, gathered around a small table for their pick of all the delights Eret brought back.

“Better not have taken all the lentil stew!” he teased, edging his way in.

“Course not luv, I got extra.” Eret kissed his brow before sliding some of the flatbreads over.

“Smells weird.” Ruffnut muttered, munching on more of the herbed almonds anyway.

“A _little_ strong, but that one herb’s grown on me. That… evergreen one, with the needles.” Fishlegs pouted as he thought.

“Oh yeah, that's a nice one.” Gobber chuckled, “And you best get used to it missy.”

Ruffnut rolled her eyes, but said nothing while Valka looked to him expectantly.

**My love, we need to tell them.**

Eret stiffened, and slowly sagged with resignation.

“So, our agreement was for a year, then we could return to Berk.” he said, and the chatter stopped, “We still intend to come north next summer, but… it will only be to visit.”

“We didn't really account for the mess in Cordoba, or the Master of Dragons thing. Sure someone else _could_ take the post, but no one can really do what we can. Not with just a few months of training.” Eret frowned, fists clenching to still his fingers, “More dragons will come out of hiding, and I'm sure another aspiring Drago isn't far off. There's too much good we can do, too much we’re _needed_ for to just leave it behind.”

“We’ve decided to stay.” he finished, and it was like a knife to the heart, “Vega can take over once or twice a year so we can visit through the summer, and you’ll _always_ be welcome here. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but Europa isn't Berk. We have to be here, to guide them towards peace.”

“I'm sorry Dad.” Eret sniffled once, then twice, “We moved you up there, Saffy too, and now we’re just leaving again-”

“No, none of that.” Father cut him off, “This is _not_ the same and you know it.”

“This’s bigger than all’uv us lad.” Gobber said gently, “If you think you can, you should.”

“This year’ll be a blessing.” Father half-choked on his words, and grappled them both into a hug, “Same- same as the rest. As many days as the gods’ll give me.”

“We’ll write, for as long as the Kites can brave the journey.” he swore.

“And visit every summer, as much as we can.” his husband shuddered, fighting tears back.

“It's not goodbye, not forever.” he added, “Just the start of something new.”

“Aye. My sons, Dragon-Masters of Europa… never would have dreamed it.” Father chuckled wetly.

“And- oh!” Eret jolted, almost bowling them all over, “We can send a Squidgen up to Berk now, with some fruit and ginger for Astrid! That way she doesn't have to wait.”

When they managed to extricate themselves enough to look, Valka was wiping away a tear, fighting little hiccups of laughter and a wobbly smile. Fishlegs likewise looked a little sad, the twins were unreadable, Naji was just confused and Ruadhán… he was floundering, lost. Maybe, they should take him aside…

 **Take a quick walk luv, I'll handle the rest,** Eret nudged him, **and fill Naji in, whoops.b**

“Ru?” he asked softly, “How about we walk a moment.”

The boy nodded and they made their excuses before starting towards the docks, quiet for a time as they thought. There was a lot to mull over after all.

“I know we’re still going to the black cliffs in Angleland.” Ru eventually said, “But you're really gonna move in, forever? After all those stories?”

“Yes. The ‘forever’ is debatable of course. There will come a day, whether we like it or not, where we will grow old and slow and grey, and maybe then we can hang up our mantles and fly back, one last time. However fate turns, we will face it together, that much I know for certain. The rest…” he shrugged, “We will take it one day at a time. And there will be plenty of days, for plenty more stories. Terrorizing Cordoba, saving Enzo from his adoring dragon-queen… finding out the mysteries of the black stone cliffs of Angleland. Yes, we’ll make many more tales for the telling.”

Ruadhán managed a small smile, but it slowly faded, “They’re really gonna miss you.”

“They will, as we’ll miss them.” his heart sank, “But so long as we put in the effort to stay connected, the distance will be nothing. And they’ll miss you too, you know.”

“Yeah, I guess…” 

“I mean it. I don't think I've ever seen Father this happy- Well, perhaps excluding the wedding.” he offered a knowing smile.

“Why do you-” Ru paused, unsure, and slowly started again, “You call Big Eret ‘father’ more than your own dad?”

Damn… that was bound to come up sooner or later, and perhaps they should sit- there, on the seawall in the shade. The breeze cooled them, and Ru was patient as he took up a spot and gathered his thoughts.

“Eret and I… our fathers weren't all they could be, as we were growing up. They were hurting in their own ways, and we suffered for it until we couldn't stand it anymore.” he drew a slow, shuddering breath, “Reza… he was rather like  _us_ in a way, fell in love a lifetime ago with a man that saved his life, and just before I was born that man died. He never knew, Reza never got to say goodbye, and… well. I'm sure you can guess what this man’s name was.” 

Ru blinked, eyes wide as he mouthed _oh._

“Yes, it was a shock to me too, and I only found this out last year. That hill we landed on, after the mishap with Foxglove, so many times Reza dragged me up there to tell that story… but he never had the will. So I grew, year after year. Wondering why my own father didn't love me like he loved my brothers, and my sister.” he had to stop for a time, and wait out the ache that clawed at his core, “Reza was too wrapped up in his own heartache to think of how it affected me, all of us, until I had to force the truth out of him. Eret-  _Father,_ he earned that title because he grew above and beyond who he was, all on his own. I didn't even know what I was missing until he came into my life-” 

He paused, and fell into a spluttering laugh, “Though,  _perhaps_ that's an understatement, since I kidnapped him. More gently than Yahya, but a kidnapping nonetheless.” 

Giggling with him, Ru eventually quipped, “Should I be worried?”

“Only if someone kidnaps _you_ first!” he shot back, ruffling the boy’s hair until he squawked and flailed away, “But… all that just goes to prove that it's never too late, to find a family again. In part or whole, to replace what you never had or to grow with you, in a different way. But don't let  _our_ past color how you see your own parents. From what I've heard, they were wonderful people. Mysterious maybe, but no one could even think of a cross word.” 

“Yeah…” Ru smiled, a little sadly but still a smile, “They never got  _real_ good at Andalusi, so they didn't chat so much. I guess that would make ‘em seem more interesting than they were, like there were _secrets.”_

He wiggled his fingers at that, brow furrowed in mock concentration.

“Well, you never know.” Cassian said, partly a warning, “Something as simple as the origin of your name could be a secret, or your father’s past. Just for example.”

Ru hummed at that, plucking at his shirt, “Sometimes it  _did_ feel like they were only telling half a story, like they were starting in the middle. No way to know for sure now…” 

“There is _one_ way, and if there are answers to be found, we will find them.” he promised, laying a hand on Ru’s shoulder, “So long as one person remembers them, their story isn't over. Even- even if it is just you. And us, since we know too.”

“Yeah.” Ru sniffed, scrubbing his eyes, but he was still smiling, “Mum… her name was Muireann, she said it meant something about the sea. Dad, he- his name was Beorn I think? Mum always called him something longer when she was mad, like when he tracked mud in or forgot to take in the laundry…”

“Oh I believe it.” he chuckled too, “Eret earns the same treatment some days.”

“Like when he leaves his dirty clothes everywhere?” 

“Oh like you don't do the same!” 

There was a bit of wrestling as they grappled, trying to muss each other’s hair and they laughed, deep and easy and breathless- and then he over-balanced, nearly pitching into the sand below _nonogetRuaway-_

 **Helping!** a dragon barked, and Cassian was jerked back from the brink by a mouthful of his tunic. Ru settled with him, shocked stiff. True it wouldn't have been a long fall, hardly five feet, but he didn't like gambling with heights.

“Thank you, your timing was-” he spared a glance then whipped back hard,  _“Cassandra?”_

The Featherfall mewled, freeing his shirt from her teeth and licking her chops after, **helped** she said again.

”Ah, sorry. She's faster than she looks.” Yahya cleared his throat, stepping out from behind her.

“It's a work shirt, there's nothing to apologize for.” he shrugged, “The twins aren't bothering you, I hope? Tuff insists his sister isn't interested, but I'm not counting on that.”

“No, no they were fine. Quite personable, even if I can't understand a word.” Yahya shrugged, “But Cassandra finally came by, then ran off-”

 **False!** she huffed, nipping at Yahya’s ear, did **not!**

“Ow! Stop that!” 

**False!** Cassandra grumbled, butting the whole flat of her head into her rider’s chest.

“She, ah, doesn't appreciate taking the blame. Especially when you’re fibbing.” he bit back a laugh.

Yahya blanched and looked away, so Cassandra piped up, went **looking, followed, curious?**

“Ah, you went sneaking then.” he said pointedly, “What on  _earth_ do you need?” 

“Nothing! Nothing just-” 

“Being _nosey.”_ he crossed his arms.

Bless him, Yahya had the decency to flush to the tips of his ears.

“How much did you overhear.” he huffed, “This was a private conversation you know.”

Yahya scuffed his feet, looking anywhere else, “After the kidnapping bit.”

Could be worse then, but he didn't want the princeling snooping on Ru either. But what Yahya had heard, it must be putting some thoughts in him… and it struck again how _young_ the man still was, far from home and- and orphaned by war. The sting of pity killed any admonishment left in him.

“Kindly don't do it again.” he said, sighing low through his nose, “We’ll be back shortly.”

“Yes, I- yes. I'm sorry.” Yahya stammered, and pulled his dragon about to slink away.

They both watched him go, though only Ruadhán was glowering.

“You're too soft on him.” the boy grumbled, “Always snooping around…”

“I find pity staying my hand.” he admitted, “And I think he’s as much like  _us_ as you. A man can hunger for more than just food and drink Ru, and Yahya’s been starved for _love_ for a long, long time. We aren't meant to be alone, no matter what we may tell ourselves to stave off the hurt.” 

Ru was silent, until he softened, “I guess… you learned that the hard way.”

“I did. There were many years where I wandered alone, going days and even weeks sometimes without seeing another person. It was like being hollowed out, with no touch and no voice but your own to ground you.” even the memory ached, all these years later, “You don't realize how much you miss the little things until they're gone. The first time I spent a week that alone, then finally found a village… someone shook my hand and I almost  _wept_ because I’d so nearly forgotten how warn another person could be. I wouldn't wish that even on _Yahya.”_

“Oh…” Ru mumbled, rubbing at his neck.

“That's part of why meeting Eret stood out so powerfully, I hadn't felt so _alive_ in so long-” 

Ru, somehow, managed to giggle and snort, “Gross!”

“Ruadhán! That's not that I meant and you-” his gut plummeted, “How do you know about that?”

“I'm not a _baby,_ I know what sex is.” Ru rolled his eyes so hard he almost fell, “Just like I know why you two sneak out at night- which I actually appreciate,  _please_ don't stop doing that.” 

He wheezed, burying his face in his hands to hide his utter mortification.

“But… I kinda get it. The other thing I mean.” Ru continued, “I guess if you're starving for…  _love_ ‘n stuff, you'll get just as snappy as a hungry man. And Yahya sure acted like a kicked dog.” 

“Yes.” he groaned, scrubbing his face some more, “And I'm sure there are scars on more than just one hand.

“You think… _his_ dad did all that?” 

“Maybe. Probably. And like a kicked dog, he’ll shy at first then follow on the heels of the first hint of kindness.” 

“Which is _us.”_

“So it seems. But we can make the best of it, for the sake of the scared, hurt child part of him still is, if nothing else.” 

“I _still_ don't like him.” Ruadhán grumbled.

“I thought the same of Snotlout once, you never know what can change.” 

Ru made a show of gagging, then hopped down from the wall, “Let's make sure Lil’ Crush doesn't eat him then, I bet Yahya would give ‘im indigestion.”

“Your chivalry warms the heart Ruadhán.” he shook his head fondly and followed.

All was well when they returned. Fishlegs busied himself with Cassandra, who preened at all the attention, Yahya and Tuffnut had returned to the saddle, leaving Ruffnut draped over Barf’s neck to bemoan her boredom. But Barf and his better half were far too enthralled by Naji to pay her any mind while Valka, Gobber, Father and his husband stood off to the side in quiet conversation. They were still too far to hear, but he could catch hints, echoes, lingering **sorrow** and aching **joy,** and Father kept one arm over Eret’s shoulders.

“I'm sure Saffy wouldn't mind taking care of the house, won't really be there to use it… Snowdrop too.” Eret cracked a small, sad smile, “And maybe we can train someone up so the glass forge doesn't go to waste. Someday.” 

“Aye, someday.” Father patted his shoulder, “We’ll keep it all in working order.”

“And maybe… we can finally take that trip _home._ One last time, to say goodbye.”

 _Oh._ Yes, this whole affair had spoiled their plans to do just that, they'd wanted to leave a day or two after Midsummer… With all of their new responsibilities, next year may be their only chance, and he would do anything to make it happen.

“Making plans without me?” he tried to tease, though his heart ached.

“Just thinkin’ aloud luv, we can plan it properly another day.” Eret said.

“Well, I'm sure you’d like to go explore Valka, don't let us hold you back.” he said, “And I'm sure Fishlegs would like the same. There _is_ so much to see.”

“I _would_ like a good firm word with that Bewilderbeast.” Valka’s lip curled.

“He’s not the same dragon Val, please don't-” Eret started.

“I _know.”_ she snapped, hands tightening on her staff before she forced herself to relax, “I know. But Summer-Snow gave me a home, he showed me so much… He was nearly _300_ years old when that monster attacked and now all of that wisdom, that experience, is wasted and rotting on a beach.”

She sagged, looking so much older, “At least his last child still lives, she’s found a safe place to nest north and east of Berk. We will do all we can for her.”

“Valka-” he tried, but she shook her head.

“I know. At this point, I’d be foolish not to trust you. But I need to see it for myself.”

With that, Cloudjumper offered a claw to his rider and together, they departed.

“And maybe you can play translator for Naji, Fishlegs is bound to have questions.” he nudged Ru, who nodded and loped off to join them.

“As for you-” the Zippleback perked, “We can introduce you to the whole family over dinner. Ali, Basira, Feryal, everyone- no, _no_ I said _later!”_

Grumbling, Barf and Belch stomped their feet and nearly dumped Ruffnut into the dust.

“Hey, watch it!” she snapped, “Is there _really_ nothing for me to do?”

“Tuffnut’s entertaining himself.” Eret said, arching a brow, “Quite happily in fact.”

“If I wanted to play arts ‘n crafts I woulda’ stayed on Berk.” Ruff scoffed.

“What’d ya even _come_ for then?” Gobber cut in, properly stern, “We’ve got things to do you know!”

“Everyone _else_ got crazy life-changing adventures with the weirdo, isn't it _our_ turn?” she threw up her hands, “Berk’s so _boring_ now that everything’s normal!”

“Haven't exactly been doing it on purpose.” rolling his eyes, Eret turned away, “And call Cass a ‘weirdo’ again, see how fast we ship you off.”

“What’dya gotta be so prickly for, can't your _wife_ defend himse-”

She froze, eyes wide with horror as her lips slowly pressed tight.

“So _that's_ what it is.” he sneered, tasting blood from biting his tongue, “Another jealous, bitter child that can't handle not being the center of everyone’s attention.”

“Even _Snotlout_ got over this sheep-shit, a year ago!” Eret seethed, “Honestly, with the way you treated me you _really_ thought I’d _ever_ give you a second thought?”

“Tolda sis!” Tuffnut shouted from the depths of the workshop.

“If Ruffnut was looking for sympathy, she found none. Even Fishlegs looked on with disappointment in his eyes, and Gobber shook his head slowly.

“He was never a salmon left to dry, ripe to pick as you pleased.” he hissed, stalking closer, “Neither were Fishlegs or Snotlout. You don't _own_ them. I knew Eret before you’d ever seen him, and shockingly, even when he was at my mercy, I kept my hands to myself! Funny what that can do for a budding relationship!”

Ruffnut flopped to the ground and tried to square her shoulders in defiance, but he did _not_ care. She may be taller by a fraction, but he was _furious_ and she withered.

“Pawing like a lecherous drunk, without a single consequence? You should be thanking the heavens _this_ is all you're facing.” his voice dropped, low and dangerous, “You can't pick and choose when you care about how others feel, and you can't demand consideration when you _give_ none. Do you even know how he still feels? Do you even _care?”_

“I don't need to take this-”

“Uh, _yeah_ , you do.” Tuff cut her off, suddenly at his side, “See? _Exactly_ what I told you. And if three whole people say the same thing, there's probably a reason! You wanted your adventure, and now you're getting it.”

“Yeah, well- well-” she spluttered, then threw up her hands, “What’dyou even _want_ from me?”

“An _apology.”_ he snapped, and when Ruff opened her mouth he cut her off, “Not to me, to _Eret,_ and don't waste his time if you don't mean it.”

Fully red in the face, Ruffnut stormed off without another word. Amanita groaned and rose from her shady spot to follow along, and they all watched the pair go. Oh did his blood ever _boil,_ the nerve of that sniveling snake-

Warm fingers curled around his wrist, slowing coaxing his trembling fist open.

**Easy luv, before you break something.**

Eret’s fingers laced through his, and he sighed.

“I'm sorry, that- that was unbecoming.” he muttered.

“More like a long-time-coming.” Tuff scratched through the stubble that remained of his hair, “Nobody _liked_ it, but nothing gets through her stupid thick skull like disappointment.”

“Let's just… get to work. We can deal with _her_ later.” pulling Eret along, he returned to the shop.

Yahya looked up from his stitching, brows furrowed like he means to ask but-

“Tuff, we didn't leave you for half an hour!” he nearly gasped, “And you managed all _this?”_

The panel was practically finished, with the design burnished smooth everywhere but the dragon’s tail. He had to admit, he was a little envious now.

“Toldja boss, nothin’ to it.” Tuff shrugged and took his seat again, “Now… some scales off that kitty-dragon _could_ make a good dye, I'll have to test around. A file, some vinegar, something to heat it all- it's a handy trick, you've got other leather-folks helping, right? They might wanna watch.”

“They already are.” he huffed a little laugh.

Indeed, their journeymen lingered at the end of the table, a little shyly, but he waved them closer. Ali, the older of the two, gladly sidled closer, though Majid seemed content where he was. Fair enough, he could still see.

“He's _fast.”_ Ali said, quiet with awe. “And such detail!”

“And he can't be that much older than us!” Majid added, “He’s from your island, yes?”

“Yes, he is. And apparently he has a few _tricks_ to share. Do we have a kettle, something small? That could go by the forge, if we have a stand…” he thought aloud.

“A kettle? What for?” Ali asked.

“You might have to borrow one from the herbalist…” Majid said.

“Tuff knows how to make dye from dragon scales, and now he has his mind set on a project. We’ll need that kettle, plus vinegar and a file apparently.” 

With a few felus and dirham in-hand, their apprentices were off to the market for supplies and he pulled Yahya aside to help groom a few scales off Cassandra.

“Grooming?” the princeling’s fingers twitched from nerves, “Shouldn’t we get brushes?”

“They need something a little firmer than the usual stable-brush, and hopefully we can make some big, proper scrubbers for the flock to use at their leisure. Once we get a proper stock of scales going, who _knows_ what we can make?” the prospect left him giddy.

“But- it won't _hurt_ will it?” Yahya asked. Oh, bless him.

“No, at least when the scales are meant to fall. It's the same as hair or feathers, you need a good brush sometimes to clear out what’s already loose. Just don't pick or pull too hard, and let her guide your hand. She knows where she needs the help after all.” he said.

The Featherfall was already waiting and thrust her head right into Yahya’s arms, purring up a storm of **affection.** It took a few taps to get her attention, but when he inquired about any **itches** she gladly offered her back and neck.

“Now, scratch down, back and forth across the grain of her scales, and gently. You can dig in a little harder when you hit a loose patch.” he instructed.

Yahya nodded, smoothing a hand down Cassandra’s back and slowly, then he set his nails in for a first proper scratch. The change in pressure earned a **pleased** chirp from the Featherfall and she leaned hard into it, urging her rider on. The smile that spread over Yahya’s face was soft and shy but he _finally_ looked his age, even when the first scales flaked away and he winced.

“It's fine, keep going.” he said, stooping to gather their prizes, “And see, how the new scales are already coming in below? They start as a quill, like feathers, all soft and spongy before they expand and harden. That's why they only shed in tiny patches, so they aren't left with gaping holes in their armor.”

“Incredible…” Yahya murmured as he peered closer.

Cassandra pouted, nudging the man as she huffed **scratch, go,** and Yahya scrambled to keep up with her demands. But a ripple of **amusement** had Cassian looking over his shoulder, to Caduceus _smirking_ at poor, red-faced Naji, and Ru rolling his eyes. Oh dear… this may well be reciprocal. God help them.

***

Well, Tuffnut found something to occupy his time, and actually got on well with everyone despite the language barrier. That was a start. He’d take it over the alternative, and Cass was keeping a close eye out for Yahya’s sake. Valka would be fine, Fishlegs was fitting right in with Ru and Naji…

Eret sighed, not liking where his guilty conscience led. They hadn’t heard a peep from Ruffnut in hours, which was almost more worrying than not having her here.

 _“Easy_ son!” Dad snatched his scoring knife before it could cut right through his thumb.

“Damn, sorry…” he sighed, “This’s got me all out of sorts.”

“...it was _that_ bad?” his father’s face fell, verging on horror, “What she did?”

“Wasn't great but, wasn't as _bad_ as it gets either.” he shrugged, “If you catch my meaning. Just some pawing and clawing and leering, until Lout and Legs finally caught her fancy. Well, guess they didn't _completely_ catch it since she’s still so bitter.”

Dad muttered a curse, in their old mother tongue no less. Right, he’d best polish up on that.

“Little spineless jellyfish-”

“Dad, we’ve got it handled.” he cut in, firm but gentle, “Maybe a good slap of reality is all she needed. If not, Cass’ll be _more_ than happy to let her really have it, especially when there aren't any witnesses.”

“As a son of mine, he’d _better.”_ Dad fumed, “I'll help dig the grave if it comes to that.”

 _“Hopefully_ it won't.” he grimaced, “But I don't like the thought of her being out and about unsupervised so… I'll just go make sure she hasn't collapsed from sunstroke.”

“Aye, don't need to cause an incident if we can help it. I'll hold down the fort.”

**Be back in a minute luv, just gonna check on ‘her majesty’.**

**Maybe Dreamer did us a favor and ate her…** Cass thought wistfully.

 **Don't hold your breath,** he shook his head fondly and **called** to the Reapers.

Oleander and Scorpion met him at the door, yawning off the dregs of their nap. _Thor_ it was too hot to be walking, a flight it would have to be.

“Alright, let's take a look for your sister. First to spot her gets dibs on _scratches.”_ he goaded.

Ha, that always got them moving. He leapt over Oleander’s shoulders and together they shot after Scorpion, racing up and down and over the hills as they all **called** for Amanita. But she, and thus Ruffnut, were nowhere near the docks, the beach, the other workshops or even the lower streets. It wasn't any easier to look for the right **spark** either, there were just too many around-

 **Here! Found, here!** Scorpion cried, drawing them… back to the docks? No, the _ships._ O f course she went to the ships, couldn't go somewhere quiet now could she? But, Scorpion won, note that for later. Oleander grumbled for her loss, but wheeled about to go back the way they’d come, more quickly now with a goal in sight. Ah, that was _Griselda’s_ ship. No sign of Vega, but Amanita sat on the rail beside the gangplank and Scorpion dropped in to join her. **There,** went **there** Amanita reported, pointing like a hound towards the far side of the deck, near the helm. Damn, the mast and sails were in the way… **down, there** he asked Oleander, directing her to the rails about mid-ship. The crew only spared them half a glance now, too deep in their work and repairs, and a familiar nasal voice cut through the rest of the chatter.

“Who’dthey think they are!” Ruffnut ranted, pacing a track in the planks, “I come all this way, and they still rip my head off for something that happened ages-”

 _“Child_ I will say this again.” Griselda snapped from the helm, “I do. Not. Care. Now _get off_ my ship before I call on your keeper!”

“Already here.” he spoke up, “Nobody cares about your pity parade Ruff, give it up.”

“Don't you have better things to do?” she scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, but unfortunately I have to babysit _you_ on top of that.” he shot back.

“I can take care of myself!”

“And yet I had to warn you about the strange man practically on your back.” Griselda said pointedly, “He could’ve done _anything_ you stupid girl, are you even armed?”

Ruffnut blanched, and turned away, “I coulda handled it.”

“Oh _really.”_ his pulse rose high and hot, “And what if he cracked you over the head with a rock, then parked a dragon on your legs? How would you ‘handle it’ _then?”_

With her lips pressed tight, Ruffnut had the decency to actually think.

“Oh! Or, someone kidnaps you, threatens your life, and ties you up so you can't get away from the creepy leering man that's leering over you like you're no more than a honey cake!” his mouth was moving faster than sense, but to hell with all the stares, “Get it _now_ Ruff? If it's bad if it happens to _you,_ why’s it perfectly fine to sweep it under the rug if _you_ do it to someone else?”

Something like shame had the brat hunching in on herself, but he never would’ve expected to see Griselda going ever-so-slightly soft with sympathy. Later, later…

“Stew on that then, we’ve got better things to do.” he breathed slow, to steady himself, “You're too damn old to need telling you should consider how other people feel sometimes. And that includes Griselda, who helped you because she _could.”_

 **Pets?** Scorpion chirped, already begging. **Yes, come,** to the **shop** he relented, and Oleander dove off the rail to wing her way back. It was hardly a minute, but even that was too much for the little male and Scorpion was on him the second his feet hit the ground.

“Yeah, you know you're my favorite and can get away with anything.” he rolled his eyes, but hugged the Reaper about the neck anyway, “Such a sweet boy…”

Scorpion purred happily, especially when he started a nice, long scratch down his neck, following the cord of muscle where it flexed and rolled under black-red scales.

“Must be nice, not having to worry about things like that…” bile soured his mouth as his stomach lurched, “And, you're pretty much a baby anyway. Shouldn't even be venting to you about this…”

Oleander nudged against his back, protesting **big, strong,** strong like **momma.**

“Oh you know what I mean, big baby.” he scoffed.

“Ah, so you bribed them.” his husband’s voice cut through the purring.

And just like that, all the tension in his neck and shoulders melted away, and he sagged into Cassian’s arms the second they brushed against his sides.

“Maybe I did, but it worked.” he shrugged, “And maybe, _just_ maybe, I made a breakthrough.”

“So you found her?” Cass huffed against his neck.

“Not before Griselda did, of all people. Apparently she saved her from some _malingerer-”_

“A what?”

Oops, old turn of phrase, “You know, someone hanging around or following where they aren't wanted, ready to cause trouble. Or, to hurt someone.”

“Oh. I suppose that served as a lesson then?” Cass slowly stroked down his back. Oh, that was nice…

“The start of one. Actually managed to get her looking ashamed by the end.” he sighed, “Maybe it’ll stick, if Griselda doesn't strangle her.”

“Not sure who it's more cruel to, leaving them together.” he could feel Cass’s smile against his shoulder, “But Tuff’s really coming into his own now that he has a little space. Perhaps they're too entwined, they don't have much sense of self beyond half of a whole. Meeting Basira and Feryal could help after all…”

“That can wait till dinner- which will _not_ be tuna, you know I can hear you thinking it!”

Not even Cassian’s best pout could change his mind, or kisses, he had to be strong-

“You've got it _bad_ son-of-Eret.” Tuffnut tutted, shaking his head.

“Shut up.” he grumbled, face burning as he cut another tuna steak off the bone.

Behind them, Cass busied himself at the oven, radiating smug satisfaction. The absolute _cheek,_ and all over some fish! Oh well, he was almost done and there was plenty of other food besides, and the girls were keeping the Zippleback entertained outside. Poor Barf and Belch were out of their _minds_ with adoration, crooning and chirping as if his nieces were their own hatchlings. Ruffnut had trailed after once she slunk back to the shop, sullen and silent as a kicked dog and watched it all happen from a shaded corner of the garden, curled into a ball of knobbly limbs. He would have to be content with that, Ru was keeping Fishlegs entertained around back on the hill-

 **Here, coming!** Lil’ Crush announced from above, and Cloudjumper chimed the same more wearily. Damn, must've been quite the conversation if they were only getting back now. He made his excuses and slipped outside to meet them, and the Stormcutter did look wrung-out, but as badly as his rider. Lil’ Crush stuck fast to Valka’s side, rolling around her to offer some form of comfort. **Kin helped, kin saved,** the Fury insisted.

“I know my dear…” Valka sighed, sagging from the force of it.

“Doing alright?” he asked, “I know those talks can get pretty intense.”

“That's one way to put it.” she muttered, “But, he's healing. All those memories, even watered down… what was done to him was _beyond_ monstrous.”

She snarled, grip twisting on her staff even as Crush tried to nose at her hands.

“Yeah, it wasn't pretty. But Drago was hardly living the high life all this time, and he died like a rat. Almost wish we could have drawn it out longer.” no, enough of that, “But it's over, so you can let loose and enjoy yourself. Bet you'll love Cass’s mom, and the girls’re out front with B&B. Shoulda _seen_ them lose their minds.”

“Oh, I can imagine.” for a moment, Valka almost looked fond, “And the twins behaved?”

“Tuff was actually more than happy to show off in the workshop all day, had our whole team spellbound! As for Ruff… might’ve finally got our point across, she's moping in the garden.” he shrugged, “And, Legs is getting on well with Ru, so there's that.”

“Could be worse… but I'm starving, let's get dinner on the table.”

 _Oh no._ “Cass has that handled, things are just stewing away now! How about we go give Took a checkup, she’s growing like a weed after all.”

“Still trying to keep me out of the kitchen?” Valka rolled her eyes.

“Gobber made me swear. But, I am worried about Took and her wing, can't tell if it's getting worse or not.” he turned to lead the way.

 _“Alright._ Leveraging a baby, the absolute _cheek…”_ she muttered, but followed along.

Cloudjumper was content to stay and relax with his mate and children, **voices** mingling in a quiet murmur as they rounded the garden wall. The workshop doors were wide open for some reprieve from the stifling heat, and Zayd was hard at work. Ali helped as much as he could, but he was still just a boy. They really hadn’t been helping as much as they should, even with the Wraiths around could they keep up? Maybe Cass should come over more often, if Reza wasn't up to the task. But, Tookles. **Here,** come **see** he called to the little Wraith. **Here, coming!** she answered, scrambling around a barrel, then a rolling bench.

“Hey, what- oh. You're here.” Zayd trailed to a mumble.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, just getting Took a checkup, since our expert is here.” he scratched idly at his neck, “Why don't you take Valka outside, she doesn't need all this heat.”

Tookles yipped, but grabbed Ali by the sleeve instead and dragged the boy off, forcing Valka to follow. Cheeky little brat she was, but maybe… she was already picking her rider. He certainly couldn't think of a more fitting match.

“Oh, here let me help!” right, there was work that needed doing, “Dinner’s almost ready, so let's get this finished up. What’re we making?”

“I'm nearly done, it's nothing.” he could barely hear the man over the fire, and his eyes were downcast, “You don't need to worry about this on top of everything else.”

There was something dejected, _hurt_ in the slump of Zayd’s shoulders, and it twisted fiercely in Eret’s gut. To hell with leaving here though.

“It's not nothing, it's the family business. What kind of brother would I be if I just left you here?” he insisted, taking up a hot joining rod, “We really should be helping more, with Ali so young and Reza so- uh. Not young.”

He winced, but Zayd very nearly laughed. Small victories. But, to work. When Zayd withdrew his pipe from the furnace, he swept in to gather a knob of melt, rolling and shaping as his brother did the same with a pair of well-worn jacks.

“Alright, that’ll do- and keep your elbows tucked in, too many moving pieces at this stage.” Zayd frowned hard as he pinched out a smooth-necked bottle, “Don't need to be earning Cassy’s ire, you’ve enough scars for an army already.”

He huffed, a bitter imitation of a chuckle, “I  _wish_ they all came from a place like this. Honest work I mean. As far as I'm concerned, I deserve ‘em all.” 

It was Zayd’s turn to blanch with guilty horror, freezing so long the glass started to slump.

“Careful! C’mon now, don't spoil your work!” he blurted, trying to wave his brother on.

“Right, I- right.” Zayd croaked, and fixed the glass with a few spins and taps of the jacks, “I- I didn't mean to imply, and you didn't-  _don't._ You still don't. Branding is for criminals, the worst of the worst! How could you have done something worthy of that?” 

“Dragons are practically _people,_ was I really any better than a slaver?” he was only half paying attention to the words that slipped out, “Probably deserved more for what we’ve done to them… They may be free now, but there were generations  _born_ into cages and I came out with a few nicks and burns-” 

“Could we finish this? Sorry, it- one moment more.” Zayd cut him off, thoroughly flustered.

Eret bit his lip and held the rod for joining up, rolling in time as the bottle was snapped free- furnace, get it hot for the last touches now, keep your head. Where was all this even coming from? He shouldn't be venting here and now, and not to his _brother._ It's not like he knew what happened, he couldn't help. Zayd was puttering around now, cleaning up the station and quenching his blowpipe in a bucket before returning it to the fire to heat. What next then..?

“Can you manage a little shaping? Sorry, don't think I've ever seen you-” 

“Yeah, I got it.” he shrugged. What were all the apologies for?

“Roll the neck a little wider, flare it like a funnel and pinch out a little spout if you can. Please!” 

It was an easy dance to switch places and retreat to the bench, rolling the rod as he took up the jacks to tease the glass into shape. A touch here, a firm press there, it was incredible even after all this time how _pliable_ glass was. But only for a few scant moments, it was fighting him now. Pinch and pull out the spout, press a crease down a bit deeper in the center… _there,_ good, just like Cass’s. Zayd stilled his hand and stole the jacks, pulling a long tongue of melt out and pressed the free end to the neck- shears, shears right. He grabbed the nearest set and cut the dangling melt just-right, and with another careful dance they swapped places again and he took the dip-rod to free Zayd’s hands. A few more tweaks after another go in the kiln, then he could pack it off to the cooling cave.

“I'm sorry…” Zayd murmured again, trailing to silence.

“You've got nothing to be sorry for.” he shrugged, rubbing at his neck,  _“I'm_ sorry for spilling all that, you've got enough to worry about.” 

“We all need to let off steam sometimes…” 

“That does include you Zayd.” he said pointedly, “I'm sure you've been under a lot more stress, these last few weeks.”

His brother went quiet again, spinning the glass a few more times before withdrawing the rod and returning to the bench, smoothing out the handle and pulling the spout a little more. Eret grabbed the tongs, ready as Zayd rolled and tweaked and killed a little time, until the glass cooled from honey-gold to nearly clear. Once his tongs were set, Zayd freed the bottle with a tap so he could stash it in the cooling cave with the rest. Hot iron hissed and glass shattered in the quenching bucket, and his brother sat heavily on the bench.

“I-” Zayd started, and delayed by wiping the sweat from his face, “I'm just… feeling left behind. Affan’s a master craftsman, Cassy and Jarrah blundered into politics, Saffy’s off having adventures we could only dream of… and I'm still  _here._ Doing what I've always done, always _will_ do now that I'm the only one that can carry it on. What do I have to look forward to, growing old and bitter like Father? Should I be dooming _my_ son to the same? It's- it's just not-” 

Growling, Zayd dug his fingers into his short hair, tugging and twisting it, and Eret frowned through a pang of sympathy. He’d been suffering this, all alone…

“Reza… it seems like half his misery he brought on himself. The secrets, the lies, even if he had his reasons it's not the same thing you're dealing with-” he blanched, “Uh, unless… you know you wouldn't be the only one-”

“No, no…” Zayd said softly, shaking his head, “I do love Daniyah. It was a little long in the making, but when I almost lost her after Ali was born… I knew that would have broken me. So, you're right in that respect. It's just- it makes me sound childish, being so sore that everyone else had the chance to find something else so now I  _can't_ without leaving all this to rot.” 

“Yeah… it isn't fair when you put it that way.” guilt twinged deep, for too many reasons, “Maybe we can see about finding more apprentices, so you aren't so high and dry up here, even get you some days off. I'm sure Cruce wouldn't mind a spin around town, Andarax and Took too of course.”

Zayd shrugged, but the Wraiths heaved out of their cuddlepile in the corner to crowd around him, rolling against his back and under his hands as they crooned **kin, kin hurts, helping...** Crucible was the most insistent, lapping at Zayd’s fingers until he relented, smoothing his palm over her brow. **Mine,** she chuffed, craning to nuzzle nose to nose and bathe his face in little dragon-kisses.

“Damn.” Eret found himself staring, “Cass may’ve found her, but Cruce never liked him  _that_ much. Looks like I was right.” 

“What?” Zayd started, jerking the barest inch away, “But, isn't she yours?”

“A _partner_ yeah, but she's made her choice and she's not a thing to keep. They're a matched set, her and Andarax… but they’re more than that.” he smiled conspiratorially, “Rax is her mate, Took is their daughter, but there aren't any  _male_ Glass Wraiths.” 

For a moment Zayd’s brows furrowed in confusion, before dawning into wonder.

“Don't know how, but she can lay living eggs all on her own. You've got an _army_ of glass-melters in the making. Sure they may want to make themselves a burrow out back- and put it in the _hill_ you nearly brought my house down last time!” 

**False** Crucible huffed, sticking her tongue out.

“Oh stopit, you know what you did! Anyway, they're… they're special. A one-of-a-kind family, and it's only gonna grow.” he smiled, though it ached.

“They aren't _that_ unique though, are they?” Zayd mused, after a moment and a _knowing_ look.

He could only laugh, breathless and weak, “Yeah, I- I guess that's true.”

Silence settled again, safer and more gentle now, and once he swore he’d never tell but, Zayd _needed_ to hear this. Cass could kill him later.

“He always looked up to you, you know.” he said, leaning back against a table, “When we were building the forge up in Berk, and he was teaching me,  _everything_ was about ‘my brother’. Took a while to figure out which one he meant, it was like it hurt him to say your names. But he practically bragged about how good you were, how you'd never dropped a single piece or wasted a speck of color, how you made rolling a ten-pound vessel look effortless. There were a few bits about Jarrah being good too, especially at delicate work, but he idolized you the most. His work was never as clear or even, it put him all out of sorts that he couldn't make something the same twice, ‘like Zayd’.” 

A fond smile pulled at his mouth, and when he looked up Zayd was well and truly startstruck.

“Cassy said all that?” his brother asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, it was one of those things you couldn't get him to _stop_ talking about. Working in the forge, your antics growing up…” he chuckled, then shrugged, “He missed you, all of you, more than words could tell. It wasn't easy for him to go, or stay so far away, and he probably expected a lot more heat when he knocked on the front door.”

“I thought I was looking at a ghost, an evil spirit wearing my brother’s face.” Zayd’s hands shook where he pet Crucible’s brow, “And I almost didn't recognize him, but how could I not know my brother? There wasn't any room left for bitterness or anger, all that mattered was  _he’s home._ Whatever comes… he’ll always be our baby brother. Even if he loves tuna more than any beast of the sea.” 

Eret couldn't help it. He snorted, dissolving into gut-wrenching giggles and Zayd laughed with him, laying out over Crucible’s head.

Dinner was a calm affair, all things considered. He and Cass and Ru all played translator between the Berkian and al-Mariyyan sides of the table, and as they feared, Basira was _particularly_ besotted with Ruffnut. At least Ruff had the decency to humor a child, once she reined her sulking in. Fishlegs stunned them all halfway through by joining in the conversation in… weirdly formal and archaic Andalusi, so odd that even Cassian didn't understand him at first. Stunned, baffled silence descended as a shared glance passed around the table, and he laughed first.

“Did I say that right?” Fishlegs failed to whisper, color rising in his cheeks.

“Who in the world taught you-” Cass started to ask, between weak chuckles, “Taught you _that?”_

“Vega did.” Fishlegs’ pout turned into a proper glower at nothing, “I should've known.”

“Your pronunciation was fine, but only the oldest of old men speak like that.” Cass patted his shoulder, “We’ll get that fixed, just takes a little practice.”

There wasn't much to clean, but he took his turn and still kept half an eye around the room. Tuffnut seemed to be entertaining Feryal and Ali, showing off his tools and workmanship on a pilfered scrap of leather as he rattled on and on about some adventure or another. The kids didn't even seem to care that they couldn't understand, they were just happy to have something to watch. Basira had other ideas, scuttling off to her room and returning with her little arms full of combs and ribbons and oils. She dumped it all on the table and took a spot on the bench, tugging on Ruff’s sleeve to get her to turn around.

“C’mooon, lemme do your hair!” Basira begged, “It's so plain, you  _gotta_ let me!” 

“Can't understand ya kid.” she grumbled, but swiveled in her seat, “Knock yourself out I guess.”

Giggling gleefully, Basira unpicked the ties that bound Ruff’s twin braids and combed it all loose with her fingers, but quickly grimaced at the state of it.

“It's so _dry,_ aren't you using rosewater? Momma says we gotta, even if it's stinky.” his niece huffed, “You're lucky you came to  _me,_ I'm the bestest there is!” 

Ruffnut said nothing, and simply leaned an elbow on the table as Basira got to work with combs and oil, chattering like a sparrow. Daniyah kept a close eye on all of them, occasionally glancing his way to find him doing the same. He offered a shrug, and that seemed to satisfy her, though they both still snuck peeks.

“-and _that’s_ when I leapt off the cliff and landed right on Ryker’s fat bald head, then I punched him in both eyes to remind him who’s boss! Think he lost a few teeth in that, never saw him smile again.” Tuff preened as he worked.

Ali leaned closer to Feryal and whispered, “He knows we can't understand him, right?”

Feryal just shrugged, eyes wide as saucers and glued on the piece of leather. _Damn_ that was cute. Maybe they had their future leather artist already, wouldn't that be something. On the other side of the table Basira was still doing much the same as Tuffnut, rattling on about the other girls in her classes, fashions from across the sea, spices and fruit and rare flowers. She was _seven_ how did she know all this?! But had she ever done a number on Ruff’s hair, it actually looked presentable and didn't reek of fish oil. The braids were halfway done and perhaps Basira was… a bit too ambitious. Hair was going every which way, ties barely clung on, it was just a mess and Eret had to smother his giggles.

 **Isn't that sweet,** Cass’s voice sparkled with mirth, as he tucked into his side.

 **I've never seen Ruff sit still this long. Think it'll last?** he mused, putting the last dish away.

 **I doubt it. But at least she's being indulgent, and Tuffnut is entertaining** **_Ru_ ** **too.**

Oh, he hadn’t noticed Ruadhán on Tuff’s other side, arms crossed atop the table to rest his head on, listening intently because he actually could. Maybe there was a twinge of jealousy, but he quickly smothered that, it's not like _he_ knew these stories. It all predated him by a while, from the sound of it. But, now that he thought…

“And _then_ there was the time we saved a Bewilderbeast egg from Drago’s grimy paws- paw!” Tuff continued, “Course we didn't know what it was or who it was for right then, we figured it all out later-”

“Wait, that was _you?”_ he blurted.

Ruff, Tuff, Fishlegs and Valka all stared, looking owlishly his way.

“Uh, yeah?” Tuffnut said, one brow arching.

“How have you not heard this story?” Fish asked in turn, “This wasn't so long before Drago’s attack.”

“He came back from a campaign in the west, mad as a stuck boar and started demanding more from everyone that trapped for ‘im. We all figured something went wrong, really wrong, in a way he didn't expect.” his fingers itched to claw at his scar, but Cass claimed his hand, That's when the whispers about _more_ dragon riders started.”

 _“Do-gooder_ dragon riders.” Valka corrected with a smug grin, “But I was included too, towards the end. Atali was an old ally, and was one of the only people in the archipelago that knew how to contact me. So, I got the egg and helped raise her up. She moved on just before Drago struck, and a good thing too…”

But Fishlegs frowned, “If Miss Atali told you about the egg, why were _we_ a surprise?”

“Well, she only ever mentioned the egg, maybe she assumed I already knew you.” Valka shrugged, “But that's all in the past. Funny, how many times our paths crossed…”

“Sometimes more _icy_ than fiery.” he snickered.

“Wait, what?” Cass turned sharply.

Oops.

“Well, that coulda gone worse.” he gladly closed their door behind them.

“Fishlegs was pretty cool.” Ru agreed, “Tuffnut too.”

“And Ruffnut may be on the precipice of an epiphany.” Cass said.

“Maybe. Let's get to bed then, tomorrow’s another day.”

***

Ru woke early, technically on time but it was so _early,_ for his regular run. Better now than in the heat of the day, and he could check in with Naji. With all that fawning, and Yahya finally acting like a civilized human… he needed to be sure Naji wasn't losing his head. That first sting of his own infatuation was finally soothing, he didn't feel fit to faint every time Ori looked his way at least. But if he could see with clear eyes, so could his friend. If Naji got hurt in all this…

They met below the gate like always and settled into an easy pace, sticking to the cool shadows around the edge of the garden. Only one lap around today, it was just too _hot_ for more, and they stopped at the end to cool off at one of the fish ponds, kicking off their sandals and rolling up their trousers to dip their feet in. The little carp milled around their toes, darting away every time they twitched, and a soft smile grew on Naji’s face.

“So, turns out Fishlegs speaks some Andalusi.” he piped up, “Well, he talks like an old man, but I think he can understand it pretty well. I bet he’ll wanna see more of what’s around, maybe the caves…”

“What did Yahya chase after you for? Yesterday I mean.” Naji practically blurted.

And so it begins. “Dunno, he was just kinda sneaking around and listening in. Cass and I were having a talk, he overheard some stuff about dads, finding a new family… hope he's not getting any  _ideas.”_

“What do you mean?” 

“You know… wedging himself in with _us,_ after all that.” 

Naji frowned, only a little but it might as well’ve been a punch to the gut.

“Would it really be so bad to have a brother? Even if it's not official.” Naji asked.

“I already _have_ a brother, I don't need him-” he started, until panic stopped him cold.

And one sidelong glance confirmed Naji was staring, utterly moon-eyed.

“So… yeah. I've already _got_ the closest thing I've ever had to a brother, don't care how big Yahya’s puppy-eyes get.” he mumbled, face burning from more than just the sun, “It's… it doesn't have to mean anything, I- you're  _important_ okay? And I'm not gonna let Yahya trample through al-Mariyyah, you deserve better than that and so do Cass ‘n Eret. someone has to be watching him like a hawk-” 

Arms winding around his neck and shoulders brought that all to a stop, and Naji only squeezed tighter when he leaned in on instinct.

“I've never had a brother.” Naji whispered, voice all heavy and wet.

“Neither’ve I.” he said, “Don't think there's much to it…”

“No, probably not.” Naji agreed, and Ru could feel the smile pulling at his cheeks.

“Not that this isn't nice but, it's a _little_ hot.” he said after a time.

Naji did pull away, grimacing a bit, “Yes. I hate summer sometimes… I do have a few things to catch up on, but I'll meet you down at the shop after.”

“We’ll be there for a while I think, probably not all day so we can get some exploring done. And I _know_ you wanna see more of Barf ‘n Belch.” 

_“What_ are their names? Ru, come back here you can't just run off after that-” 

There was no practice today, so they could just get right to work. Fishlegs was happy to chat the whole way, and Roller followed shyly after Meatlug- was that a rock in her mouth? Weird. Tuffnut and Valka were content to just people-watch, while Ruff perched on B&B’s back, still quiet with dark bags under her eyes. Looks like she hadn't slept at all… and Ruadhán was starting to care a little less about how mad Cass and Eret were. Maybe a new dragon would be a good distraction, but which one? Hmm… well, could never go wrong with a Squidgen or three, their tails were so _squishy._ So he called to a few of them, all perched in a row on a rooftop as they passed by, and two fluttered down to scamper along at his side.

“That lady up there needs some extra cuddles, okay?” he whispered to them, “Not yet though, once we get where we’re going.”

The Squidgens chirped, and that seemed enough like an agreement. One of the Zippleback heads, he left one, looked back with a suspicious squint, so he tried to think _we’ll help her._ It must’ve worked, because the Zippleback- Belch right? instantly relaxed, eyes going dark and sweet.

So, he had some cute dragons and half a plan, but what to say? Might just have to wing it- heh. Dragons, wings… still, he mulled and mulled all the way down. This shouldn't take long, he could make an excuse and lead B&B away to a quiet corner, set the Squidgens on her like hounds and let Ruffnut talk it out. That could work, and now they were here.

“Be right back!” he said, rushing past Eret to keep the Zippleback moving.

“Ru, what-” Eret started, but Cass stopped him and nodded slowly.

 _C’mon, this way,_ he thought, pulling Belch’s head over his shoulder. The Squidgens scrambled to catch up as they rounded the building, and all the movement snapped Ruffnut out of her daze.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” she huffed.

“You need some quiet and a cuddle lady, this’s officially a kidnapping.” he shot back, “Just going over here.”

“Seriously? I'm not a _baby.”_ she started to hop down-

Only for Barf to snatch her up by the scruff and tote her along.

“Traitor!” she seethed, flailing everywhere, “See if I don't _leave_ you here!”

Both heads ignored her, trundling along with him to a nice shady spot that perfectly caught the sea breeze. There the Zippleback bedded down, dropped their rider, coiled round and round to pin her there, and then the Squidgens arrived. Ruffnut’s sour pout gave them pause though, he tried to insist she was okay, really.

“You're not gonna make me talk.” she sneered, crossing her arms.

“Oh, _I_ don't have to.” he snickered, “That's what the cute dragons are for.”

Ruff’s eyes narrowed, “You play _dirty._ Normally I’d admire that.”

He just smiled easily, plopping down by Belch’s paw. The closer Squidgen, a nice blue-green, took another tentative step and nosed at Ruff’s boot, then slowly crept closer. Finally it laid itself out and rested it's chin on her leg, looking up at her with perfect puppy-eyes. Ruff crumbled in moments after the other Squidgen nuzzled even closer, laying itself over her lap and _purring._

“You _really_ play dirty.” she groaned, slumping back into the crook of her dragon’s necks.

“It's obvious you didn't sleep.” he said, “Cass ‘n Eret have said their piece, so this’s where we pick apart _your_ problems. That's how these adventure things work.”

Ruffnut stared strangely before muttering, “Great, the _weirdness_ is infectious.”

Then, she went quiet, keeping her hands busy petting the yellow-orange Squidgen.

“What’m I supposed to do?” she finally asked, more like a mumble, “Me ‘n Tuff’ve always been a team, _the_ Thorston twins. We ride a dragon with two heads! Being ‘one of the twins’... what else’ve I got? We do everything together, always have…”

“Cass’s dad and uncle are twins, and his nieces. I mean, it was obvious with _them,_ but you’ve only seen his uncle.” he said, settling in and crossing his legs, “But that hasn't stopped them from being their own people. Feryal is kinda shy and likes making things, Basira is obsessed with fire and braiding hair… you don't _haveta_ be attached forever. Tuffnut’s good at leather stuff, what do _you_ do?”

“He's not ‘good’. He's the _best!”_ she huffed, “Hopeless with dyes though. He's a genius for figuring it out, but using them? _Way_ too heavy-handed. You can't just slap it on like paint, leather is a delicate lady and you gotta treat her right!”

Then Ruffnut sagged, hand returning to the Squidgen’s back, “But I don't really _have_ a ‘thing’, Tuff’s the one that gets good at stuff and I just… follow along.”

Ruadhán frowned, brows furrowing, “But you just said you were good with dyes?”

“No, I said Tuff was bad.”

“So if _you_ know how to do it and he doesn't, that makes you good!”

She opened her mouth to retort but… stopped as that sank in.

“Don't even _think_ about Tuffnut. What can _you_ do?” he pressed again.

“Well…” Ruff drew a slow breath, chewing on her lip, “I'm a _way_ better cook than Astrid- okay, cheesy bread excluded _no one_ can do that better than her. And… I'm good with dyes I guess? I dunno, I just have a feel for it, since I spent so long helping Cousin Agnut growing up…”

“Is _everyone_ in your family named something-nut?” he asked without thinking.

“Uh, kinda? On our Dad’s side at least.” she shrugged, “Cousin Gruffnut- he's got a gambling problem, avoid him like the plague- Uncle Dullnut… that's it actually.”

 _“Hazle_ nut.” he snickered, but Ruff’s eyes brightened.

“Huh, that's not bad.” she mused, but quickly slumped again, “Not that it matters. Only single woman on Berk…”

Oh man, _romance._ He was way out of his depth here- but. It came like a lightning bolt.

“D’you want a boyfriend just because?” he thought aloud, “Or, cuz they'd _have_ to see you as just you, not ‘the twins’.”

He watched intently as Ruffnut mulled it over, brows drawing tight.

“You don't need someone else around to make you your own person. You can just be yourself, for yourself and if something happens… it happens.” and that stuck a little bitter, ow…

Which, Ruffnut seemed to notice, “First crush huh?”

“Yeah…” he admitted, “And with all _this_ stuff it's easier to just, let it go. I'm only a kid, it probably wouldn't last anyway.”

That's what he told himself at least, over and over. It didn't really ease the sting though.

“I'm sorry kid…” Ruffnut said, suddenly soft.

He shrugged, “I'll get over it. Eventually.”

Belch wiggled and uncoiled himself enough to stretch out and nuzzle into his shoulder, gurgling his own sympathy. _Thanks bud,_ he thought as he gave the dragon a scratch. Ruff had some thinking to do, so he let her have some quiet to do just that as he skritched and scratched- oh, a few loose scales! Let's get those taken care of…

“Better apologize before they _really_ start hating me.” she eventually sighed.

“Yeah, probably. They won't force you to make a spectacle of it though.” he said with absolute certainty.

Barf slipped free to help his rider up, which dislodged the Squidgens and they weren't too happy about that, grumbling and scolding as they gave themselves a shake.

“Thanks guys, you can get back to what you were doing.” he stooped to give each a pat.

But they just trundled off after B&B, chasing their waving tail-tips. Well, they could go where they liked after all. So he followed all the way back around to the workshop doors- Naji was here, _yes_ ! and B&B were already rushing to meet him. Ruffnut must’ve slipped inside, best to give them some privacy and find something else to do. Oh, Naji hadn't seen Zippleback fire yet, there was that! Not _here_ though, they should go to the beach or something. Yeah, that could work. Better ask first though.

“There you are!” he called, skirting Belch’s flank, “I'll check with their riders in a minute, see if we can sneak away to the beach and then we can show you what Zipplebacks can  _really_ do. Eret told me all about ‘em.” 

“They don't have normal fire?” Naji asked over Barf’s nose.

“Nope! But I'm not gonna level half the port showing you- hey! No no, not _yet_ it's gotta be a surprise!” he pressed his hands over Belch’s mouth before he could spark.

The Zippleback grumbled under his fingers, but he listened.

“I think they're still having a talk in there, so we can wait a minute.” he said, “And I don't think Yahya’s down here yet, so you can't run off to  _smooch_ in the alley.” 

“Ruadhán!” Naji yelped, _ha_ he was blushing, “Don't be mean…”

And now he was pouting, oops. Hot to fix this-

“Besides, you saw him yesterday.” Naji continued, “These last few days even! He's smiling more, he's finding  _peace_ here. That has to count for something.” 

“And I still think you deserve better.” he jabbed Naji in the ribs, “But you should bring Cads by later, I bet I can flatter Tuffnut into prettying up his saddle. He's already doing Yahya’s, shouldn't be too hard.”

“Wait, he did what?” Naji’s eyes went wide and he bolted for the workshop.

_“Naji…”_ he groaned, slipping under Barf to chase after.

He could just hear murmuring off in the racks in the far corner, so he avoided that and dragged Naji over to Yahya’s usual spot. Everything was right where they left it, including the newly-fancy backrest pad. The design _was_ pretty, kinda like the embroidery in that quilt, but it hadn’t been colored yet so Ruff may just have her time to shine… once the dye was done. Tuff might’ve been working on that outside, in that teeny-tiny kettle. Just a matter of time then.

“Such _detail.”_ Naji gasped, fingers tracing the knotwork, “And I've never seen anything like this style! It's all from- um. What’s his name again?”

“Tuffnut. But yeah, that's all him, and maybe his sister’ll help too, with the colors.” he said, checking over all the pieces. Huh, it was actually looking alright…

And Naji was practically shaking with excitement. Probably thinking about flying with _Yahya_ once it was done… and that shouldn't have stung as much as it did. Sure they didn't spend every second of the day together, but he didn't want to lose what little they _did_ have to the princeling- Ru bit his lip as guilt clawed over everything else. Naji was practically an adult and Yahya only had a year before he had to go back to Cordoba… and then what? Sure it wasn't so far, but they'd be busy and life was complicated. Who even _knew_ if whatever-they-had could keep going. He shouldn't be wedging in between them, it wasn't fair. Naji could look out for himself-

“Oh, I wonder if he even _could_ work on the leather now that it's all put together.” Naji frowned, fingers drumming on the table, “A shame… we could always add more to it?”

He snapped back to attention, “Uh, yeah. I'll ask, but he’ll probably need to see it to be sure. Maybe something could go on the straps?”

“Well, I have some things to do soon. I could bring Caduceus by after lunch?” 

“That should be fine, maybe they'll be done by then. Dunno how many colors we’ll have, that might have to wait for another day.” he shrugged.

“They’ll be here a while then?” 

“Yeah, at least a week. Now let's go bother Tuffnut.” 

So bother they did, he wanted to distract himself from all those thoughts, even for a just a little while. Tuff was more than happy to have the Zippleback out of his barely-there hair and they actually _rode_ the dragon for the quick flutter to the beach. Once they picked a nice clear spot, Barf let loose a little cloud of noxious gas and Belch lit it with a shower of sparks from his teeth, and with a crack it all ignited, roaring like a wave as the fuel was consumed. Wiggling with glee, the Zippleback kept the show going and suddenly tucked in, almost making a hoop out of themselves and kicked along with their wings, rolling like a wheel up and down the shore. At least he could still make Naji smile.

Lunchtime came and- and his _brother_ had to go. There was work to do, so he watched and helped as much as he could, fetching bottles and rags to filter and store the first batch of scarlet dye. Ruffnut scurried away with one of them while Tuffnut started on another color, gold probably, and the whole while he rattled on about how he’d do this-that-the-other differently. It was kinda gross to watch, boiling scales like they were dried chickpeas in _really_ strong vinegar, and it smelled even worse. Then after a while they'd have to put a file to them, like taking the rind off a lemon to get all the good color off and boil the dust again, filter it through wood ash to kill the acid… how’d he even come up with all this? Oh well, he could stir a pot for a bit-

Or not. Tuffnut shooed him away, back to the shop.

“Not that I don't trust ‘er, but _just_ in case, go make sure Ruff is minding her manners.” Tuff said quietly, “Don't need an incident now that she’s back in the good books.”

“Yeah, I got it.” he whispered back, “I think she’ll be fine though.”

“Thanks kid.” and- _ruffling his hair_ why did everyone _do_ that?! “Team Dad’s already working their magic.”

...that shouldn't make his head spin, but did it _ever_ today. Especially hearing someone else say it, easy as breathing. But… he couldn't make himself say it, even in his head. It- it wasn't _right,_ not yet. Things to do, things to do, _move_ Ruadhán. He shook his hair out and hurried to the table, where Ruffnut had the same audience as Tuff did; Yahya, Ali and Majid. They were just as curious too, though they gave her a more polite amount of space and Ruff didn't seem to mind. He wedged in on the other side, ignoring Yahya’s grumbling to watch with them. Ruff worked just as quick and sure as her brother, sorta painting bits in with dye and blotting away the extra. It was hard to tell how well the color was taking, but she’s only just started.

“This’s good stuff, like _really_ good.” Ruffnut observed, “Might not even need a fixer to dye fabric, and that's impressive for a red. I'll have’ta play with that…”

“Featherfalls come in a million colors, there's plenty to try.” he said, “But, is it normally not? Dye from other scales, I mean.”

“It's all over the place.” Ruff shrugged, “Gronckles? Don't even bother, it just turns out muddy. Rumblehorns and Furies don't take at all, Thunderclaws and Nadders are just _okay,_ but Nightmares are the best we’ve tried. Well, until _this,_ but it was way harder to get the colors out. And so many of them are blue and purple!”

 _Oh._ “And those are the _rarest_ dyes. With all the silk we make, I _bet_ the weavers’ll wanna hear about that! Once we get the scrub-brushes done, maybe we can make one just for the Featherfalls so the scales don't get mixed up.”

“Good thinkin’ kid. But we can worry about that once I'm done with _this.”_

Looks like he was right and, a little smugly, he nudged her foot under the table.

“Toldja so.” he said softly. Didn't need to, but it felt right.

And Ruffnut ducked her head to hide a small, bashful smile.

“What was all that about?” Majid prodded, eyes all bright and eager.

“She says those dragons, the Featherfalls, their scales make a _really_ good dye, maybe better than anything else we have.” it took a moment to translate his thoughts, ugh, “And so many of them are blues and purples! That has to be valuable, right?”

_“Unbelievably_ so!” the seamstress’s daughter, Ayda, practically threw herself across the table, “And if the color stays fast and true- it could be worth it's weight in gold!”

“They're both gonna experiment, and we’re already making more colors. Eventually we can set up a way to let the dragons groom themselves whenever they want, so we can collect the scales and once there's enough… well, we can do what Tuff’s doing out there, but bigger. _Way_ bigger.” he gestured outside.

Ayda’s eyes went wide as saucers and she retreated to whisper with her mother. Oh, maybe the caliph would want to know? They could sneak a bottle over…

“Purple dye _that_ easily?” Yahya said, “And all those other colors? Al-Mariyyah is already the envy of Europa for it's silk, to command  _that_ too…” 

“Maybe we could dye something and send it to your uncle, show him what we’re doing. He seemed to want to know all that.” he thought aloud.

And Yahya paled, “To my uncle. You'd- you’ve sent things, to my uncle.”

“Uh, yeah? We already have, an iced-up tuna and some pomegranates.” he swallowed, suddenly nervous, “Were we not supposed to? Cass checked with Jarrah first.”

“I'm sure the whole army would’ve marched on us if he took insult.” Yahya giggled and it sounded a little manic, “He- he really didn't say anything?”

Ali and Majid slunk away, and Ruffnut spared a glance up, but relaxed when he whispered ‘It's fine’. At least, he hoped so.

“No? I haven't heard anything anyway, pretty sure sure we would have by now.” he shrugged, “But Jarrah did say he’s looking a little more friendly with that one Kite.”

“Uncle Qassim, _friendly?”_ Yahya stared in utter shock, “He’d kick a kitten for looking at him wrong!”

“Kittens don't breathe fire.” he said pointedly, “And dragons, they just- you've noticed, I  _know_ you have. It's easier to talk to them, they listen and just _know_ things about you, you don't even have to think! They make you better without even trying!” 

“There's no making _him_ better-” 

“We didn't think _you_ could get better either!” he snapped, quiet and surging closer, “So don't prove  _us_ wrong, cuz I've got my eye on you.” 

To hell with leaving him be, just for now. He was airing this out properly.

Yahya reared back, brows furrowing hard, “I apologized and it was accepted, do I need to crawl on broken glass?”

“Not for them, for _Naji_ stupid.” he scoffed, “Oh don't give me that look, you're like a Gronckle in a glass shop around him! I'll do you a  _huge_ favor and tell you he’s all moon-eyed too, so _someone’s_ gotta make sure you do right by him.” 

“He- what?” the princeling wheezed, “How do you know that?”

“Naji’s practically my _brother,_ so if you think I'm not gonna watch his back you're crazy.” he glared, never once blinking, “But you're gonna have to earn his trust fair and square, I won't be doing any spying for you.”

Yahya kept staring, almost in awe, or disbelief? It was hard to tell, he looked fit to cry. Had he really not noticed, in all his pining?

“So… don't be stupid.” he finished, backing off, “Or I'll have to kill you can feed the evidence to Dreamer. I'm sure he’d make an exception for it.”

Yahya didn't even blink, and asked breathlessly, “He’s asked after me?”

“Hey, I'm _threatening_ you! And that's not what I said, like at all!” he pouted.

“But you said-” 

“He thinks you're pretty _and_ an idiot, but he believes you can get better. So if you _ever_ make him cry I'll end you. And I _mean_ it.” he kicked at Yahya under the table, but missed, “And it's not like you'd be the first to find a family somewhere else. If you’d just listened and  _learned_ you woulda seen Eret did the same thing. Kinda. Okay it was a little different but still, it's not that hard if you're willing to try. If a full grown man that's seen _way_ more of the world can change, so can you.” 

That finally broke through the fog of adoration and Yahya blinked, “What?”

“Eret lost his mom young and had a garbage dad- at first, he’s better now- so he probably knows better than anyone how you feel.” he huffed, crossing his arms, “He never knew any of what me ‘n Cass had, even if I didn't have any siblings either. It may not be easy, but you  _can_ earn it if you actually try. So… you _better_ try, for Naji.” 

Yahya’s shoulders slumped, and there were no words for the look on his face, all vulnerable and open like a cracked pistachio and Ruadhán wanted to hate him for it. The same princeling that sneered about ‘men like them’ didn't- he was barely any different, he wasn't good enough, not yet. But Naji was smart, if anyone could whip Yahya into shape, it was him.

“I've got things to do, don't burn the place down…” he muttered, and returned to the forge. At Tuffnut’s look he said it was all fine, and started to settle in…

He didn't get the chance though. Blue and Ori dropped out of the sky, hooting for attention before all four eyes found him. Boy and dragon scurried his way and Ori didn't even bother getting down before he started babbling.

“Chaghatai never came back last night, he _never_ stays out anywhere! Dad and Griselda are starting to worry, we gotta help look!”

“Where did you see him last? Or, anyone else?” he asked, “That's the best place to start, right?”

“On the boats, he said he was going up to the market yesterday and never came back.” Ori said, breathing hard, “We gotta start there, and fast-”

“Okay okay gimme a minute!” he cut in, “I gotta find Crush, just wait!”

Oh, and he should let Cass ‘n Eret know, this could be a big deal. They’d started up work in the shop so there he went, dragging one to the other by a sleeve.

“Ori’s here, he says one of the warlord guys went out last night and still isn't back, so we gotta help look for him.” he said in a rush.

“He's what?” Eret spoke first, “Chaghatai right? That's not like him at all.”

“You knew _him_ too?” Cass squinted.

“Only from a distance, he kept to himself mostly. Or stuck fast to Griselda, thought they were an item for a while.” Eret shrugged, “But, probably a good idea to make sure he isn't lost somewhere.”

“Crush is off getting lunch, go with Tyrian. But be careful, and if you can find a scent he can track it. Come.” Cass steered him out, fast and firm with purpose.

The Nadder was already waiting when they emerged, scolding Blue where he pranced anxiously before folding back on his haunches- oh, Cass probably asked him to. It would be easier to get up and in. And he’d be flying _without a lapbelt-_

“Ori, I need you to take a deep breath and listen.” Cass said, in that calm, slow way that practically forced the other boy to do so, “Tyrian can track him down, but you’ll need a scent. Go back to the ship and have someone fetch a shirt, a helmet, even a sock will do. Start from the docks, Tyrian can do most of the work but you'll need to be his extra eyes. Watch carefully, help steer around trouble.”

Ru still needed a little boost up, and his toes barely reached the stirrups once he got his knees set on the support bars. So long as they didn't fly too much, he’d be fine. To the boats, then let dragon-noses do the work.

“Okay.” he swallowed, and forced himself to _look,_ “Griselda could find us something for a scent right? So let's go.”

Ori met his eyes- blue and bright, the whole _sky_ was there- and nodded once. So they would- _should_ go, just one second.

“We’ll be quick.” he promised Cass, still at the Nadder’s side, “If something’s wrong, I'll send a Kite.”

“Hopefully it's just a mistake. He wouldn't be the first sailor to overstay somewhere.” Cass said as he checked some straps, “Hopefully that is the case. Now, _gently_ Tryian.”

Slowly, the Nadder rose, lurching a little but Ru caught himself on the pommel, shifting a bit more in the seat- _that_ was better. And he was _really_ high up, wow.

“Okay, boat first. Ori, let's go!” he called, and nudged the Nadder on.

Blue took the lead, they would know which ship to go to after all, and the flight was… different. It was weird being _between_ a dragon’s wings, and Tyrian bobbed around so much more than Lil’ Crush. But he could do this, Ori was watching. There was a sort of frantic energy around once they landed on the deck, and that woman, Griselda? practically threw herself off the helm at them.

“Did you find him?” she barked, almost frantic. She… really cared.

“We can try to track him by smell, we just need something of his!” Ori shouted back, “Go quick!”

And she went, rushing back into the ship and returning with what looked like a shirt. She threw it more or less at Tyrian’s face and the cloth fell over his nose, but that worked. The Nadder sniffed and sniffed, drawing the scent in deep, then he shook the shirt off. Now they could _really_ get started.

“We’ll be back as fast as we can!” he promised, “Tyrian can find anything!”

“Go then, hurry!” Griselda waved them off and… was she shaking?

“C’mon bud, put that nose to work.” he patted Tyrian’s back.

It was their turn now, and the Nadder thrummed his determination before craning down to snuffle at the deck. Off, off to the dock he urged, and Tyrian led the way, back to shore and up the main street. Okay, made sense so far. Then Tyrian veered left to one of the market sidestreets, in and out on the stalls, all _over_ the place. Still looked every bit like a trip to the market, where was this guy? Just past the silk alley, something changed. The trail straightened, and Tyrian could move a little more quickly, but they were heading towards the Alcazaba, where a lot of the fancy inns were. Oh, maybe he did stay overnight then. Chaghatai was a grown man and could do as he liked, but they could at least check in. At one particular door Tyrian stopped, sniffed the handle, then stretched towards the upper windows. Here then? Should they call, or-

“Hey, Uncle ‘Hatai!” Ori shouted through cupped hands, and Blue threw his head back to howl with him.

“Quiet down!” he hissed, “You can't just shout like that-”

Or apparently, he could, because a set of shutters flung open and a man looked down at them, ready to start scolding. For a moment anyway, then he deflated.

“Ori, what is it? There better not be-” Chaghatai paused, and checked the sun, “Is _that_ the time? No wonder they sent you.”

“Griselda’s freaking out, you can't just leave like that!” Ori huffed.

“I found myself… distracted.”

“Is she at least _pretty?”_ Ori rolled his eyes.

“Not like _that_ boy. Now wait, we don't need to shout like brigands.”

Chaghatai left, but someone else, then two then _three_ men filled the window, all with that same way-East look. They chattered between themselves, a weird bouncy language he couldn't place, but it sounded like excitement and they were starting at him and Ori- their _dragons._ What was going on here?

Chaghatai emerged a minute later, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Still, at lunchtime?

“I happened upon traders, countrymen of a sort. It's been an age since I've heard my mother tongue and we merely lost track of time, speaking of home.”

The man had a storyteller’s way of speaking, slow and careful and deliberate, it was nice.

“They seem kinda keen on dragons.” he said, just a little pointedly.

“Work has spread far, it seems. They intended to go to… Roma? Someplace east of here, but heard of dragons and kept sailing. Soon the whole world will know-”

One of the men up above called down with an excited grin on his face and Chaghatai hesitated a moment before answering, measured and… cautious? But another trader joined in, it almost sounded like begging and Chaghatai sighed.

“They have many questions, and some… are not mine to answer.” the man frowned, “Chiefly, whether they could take a dragon with them.”

“Well, if a few _want_ to go, I don't see why not? Cass ‘n Eret get final say though.” he shrugged, “Are there no dragons that way?”

“Only stories, like many places. But there must've been once, for those stories to linger. Dragons living in lakes and rivers, calling the rain…” a small, wistful smile grew in one corner of Chaghatai’s mouth, “Perhaps, those days can return, like they have here.”

“If they wanna come down to the workshop we can try to figure something out.” he offered, “We’ll need someone to translate though. And, Griselda will wanna know you're okay.”

Chaghatai’s shoulders dropped a fraction and he nodded once, before turning back to the inn.

“We will join you shortly. And… thank you.” he said over his shoulder.

And now, to wait. Letting dragons go though… sure they couldn't force it either which way, but was it a good idea? Cass ‘n Eret would know better, and could train them up to get used to real, _living_ dragons. Stories weren't always right after all. But, maybe Ori should go ahead and stop all the panicking.

“I can handle this, if you wanna go tell Griselda we found him.” he said.

“Probably a good idea…” Ori groaned, “I'll hang out at the shop after I guess. Thanks Ru, Griselda would’ve come _unglued_ in another hour.”

“They seem pretty close. I thought she didn't _like_ men.” he said. Maybe, if he asked the right question he could… find something out.

“She doesn't, mostly, but they are.” Ori shrugged, “Dunno the story behind that, they don't talk much at all, nevermind about themselves. All I know is they're from far away.”

“Well, it's all fine now, whatever they are. It shouldn't be long.”

After another long look, Blue trotted away to the main road for spade to take off, and away they went. Slowly, Ruadhán exhaled. His heart pounded and he hated that every look, _any_ look still did that to him. It would be so much easier if all this could just stop, get over it because he was _leaving_ and there was no point. He wasn’t the lucky one this time. Tyrian looked back as much as he could head tilting as he made a little, curious sound. Right, he could hear that…

“It's nothin’ bud, just dumb people problems.” he muttered, scratching the dragon’s back.

But Tyrian crooned again, more insistently, and his eyes turned all tender-soft.

“Just- later, okay? Not here.” that seemed more acceptable, and the Nadder relented.

Chaghatai didn't take long, and returned with those three traders, one older and two younger, maybe his sons? They all looked over the moon but didn't let that turn impolite, which was a good sign. Maybe a Snipe would like them, or a Hobblegrunt? But maybe a Kite or a Squidgen would be more appropriate. Cass ‘n Eret would know best, let's get them there…

“So, this way to the workshop.” he urged Tyrain around, “It's not far.”

Chaghatai chuckled, an easy, warm sound, “Downhill too, I imagine. We will follow.”

The traders chattered the whole way there, and occasionally Chaghatai responded to what sounded like a question, it was hard to tell. That language of theirs really was hard to follow, he couldn't track where any single word started or ended, Chaghatai must be some kinda _genius_ to speak Norse on top. But so long as they didn't need him, he’d just focus on getting them where they needed to go. Through the market, down the hill to the docks… and he called on a few Flutterkites and Squidgens as they passed on by.

Everyone was still there when they arrived and Lil’ Crush had returned, looking awfully put-out to see him on Tyrian. All the new voices were catching attention, better get down and start explaining, starting with Cass ‘n Eret. The Nadder crouched for him and it took a few tries to get his feet out of the stirrups, back on the ground, and under him. He _definitely_ didn't almost fall on his face before scrambling into the shop.

“Found ‘im!” he announced, “And everything’s fine, but there’re some traders from far away that wanna know stuff. Especially if they can take a dragon back.”

Setting their tools down, Cass ‘n Eret shared a look one of those silent conversations.

“Well, if they _want_ to go we won't stop them.” Eret said with a shrug.

“But depending on where they're going and how, something like a Kite might be more practical.” Cass added, “Food won't be as much of a concern.”

“Yeah that's what I thought, for both things.” he’d allow himself a little pride in that, “And I brought some Kites for ‘em to meet, but they'll probably have more questions. Chaghatai’s been translating so far, it's just a little slow going.”

“And you've let Grizzy know?” Eret asked, laughing to himself.

“Ori went back, yeah…” he swallowed, hard, cleared his throat-

And Tyrian grumbled at the door. Right, he promised… but now Cass ‘n Eret were staring.

“It's nothing, just sore about… that.” he mumbled, looking away, “It's nothing.”

Another, more emphatic squawk left the riders sighing. Stupid nosey dragon.

“Let's get your mind off it then, see what these traders are about…” Eret nudged him.

Right, do something else for a bit and don't think about it. That usually worked. Or, it had so far. These new guys should be pretty distracting.

Barf&Belch were already making friends with the younger two at least, and a red Flutterkite had plastered herself all over Chaghatai’s back, nosing through his hair. Weirdo. But now it looked like Eret was the new attraction, their jaws dropped as they looked up and up and _up._ Ha, wait till they saw _Ragnar._

“So, Ru had it right. So long as the dragons are choosing, they can go anywhere with anyone they please.” Eret said, “But it might be easier on your gentlemen here to think small, like this lil’ lady. Easier to feed and get around with, all that.”

“I've warned them of such, but that is good news. And Zhou is quite taken with this… lady. Her colors are- how would you say… fortuitous?” Chaghatai frowned.

“Lucky?” he offered.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. It is a long way home, so they had planned to stay a while. See what there is to see, learn what there is to learn. Old stories pale in comparison to the real thing.” that fond smile returned.

“Stories from that far away huh?” Eret said, trying not to look eager.

Yeah, a story sounded good right about now, something _new._

Griselda dragged Chaghatai off by the ear eventually, the traders wandered off with their new Flutterkite friends, and they packed up for home. They'd gotten so much done, between Yahya and Naji’s saddles, the dyes, meeting new people… that would be important, right? Making sure dragons were treated right everywhere? If the traders were from _that_ far away, who knows how many people they’d meet in turn, and tell and send back here. That was probably something they should think about, and plan for. Over dinner, he was starving-

And Yahya was at the door with their food held hostage, _again._

_“Fine,_ come in.” he groaned, throwing the door open.

“I just… had some questions. About Cordoba.” Yahya shifted uneasily.

Cass ‘n Eret shared a look, shrugged, and sat in their spots, waving the princeling in. great. At least he wasn't gonna bug them about Naji- _he’d better not._

“You've been… talking, with my uncle.” Yahya said, setting down the tray.

“Indirectly.” Cass said, “My brother passes messages back and forth when they arise.”

“We’ve sent food and trinkets too, Jarrah’s still the middleman though.” Eret added, as he started serving dinner up, “Why? You're free to send letters yourself.”

“I don't know if that is… a good idea.” Yahya was practically shaking, “He always hated my father, hated  _me._ He’ll never let me back, the exile is a sham.” 

“Do you know this for certain?” Cass asked far too gently, “Ask yourself  _why,_ there's always a reason when it comes to brothers. Time and distance may yet soften his heart, with a little help from a dragon.” 

“I doubt it. _When_ it started I don't know, but even as a child he terrified me, the way he glared at us…” Yahya shuddered, swallowed hard, “My father was younger but had all the power, the prettier wife, the son-and-heir, is it any wonder?”

All that talk of pity was suddenly making sense, and Ru hated it. He didn't _want_ to feel sorry for the brat but… damn. Nothing at all went right for him.

“I don't think that’s the whole story.” Cass mused, “No matter how far you roll out dough, the pastry will always have two sides. What I saw as hate and disappointment in my own father was born from guilt and shame, and while the wounds are still raw… We can be civil. From the little we saw, I dare say you uncle’s feelings could be just as complicated, and less of whatever he felt may be directed at you than you think.”

“And why would he say you can come back in a year, in front of his whole court, if he planned to keep you away forever?” Eret added, “‘We’ll see if you're fit’ he said. That's not the thinking of someone that’ll back out of a deal on a whim.”

“So why make him wait a whole year?” he finished, “If he wants to see change,  _make_ him see it. Write letters or something, and maybe you'll find out what’s really going on. Went on. You know what I mean. And, maybe it can start with the dyes.” 

Yahya couldn't quite look at them, but there was no missing the pride in Cass ‘n Eret’s eyes. Damn pity, making him _care._ But it was the right thing. They ate in silence for a while, a good rice and mushroom stew, but they _never_ used enough mushrooms-

“I was also thinking…” Yahya had to go and open his mouth, “About Naji-”

Ruadhán nearly choked on his spoon.

***

They’d had quite the productive start to the week. Potential new crafts to enrich their markets, new colors to brighten the city, the first great grooming station, and the start of a Featherfall scale horde because of it. They even got an _honest_ apology out of Ruffnut. Ruadhán really was a miracle, not only for that but his slow, incremental… tolerance of Yahya. At least he went and brought up Naji, how _red_ Ru went! Those two… But, they could still make the most of this little extra bit of Berk. Valka sought to move on in a week, and this could be the last safe time to move between north and south.

Or, that _far_ north. The news of dragons as far east as Roma already… Cordoba should be warned. The next men to come calling might not be a trio of traders-

“Ey, Cassy! Head outta the clouds, keep these kitties in line!” Tuffnut barked.

...he’d let it slide this time. Stay **still** he scolded, **calling** a few Featherfalls back, be **patient.** They grumbled but complied, forming back into line around the brushes. Every color in the world they were, but blue and purple with accents of gold were the most common by far. Oh the _wonders_ they could create…

“So, what’s next boss?” Ruffnut said, suddenly at his side.

“You need a _bell,_ God have mercy…” he huffed, “Same as usual, collect and sort and save for later. How close would you say the colors need to be for a batch?”

“Close’s you can get. It doesn't matter as much if they're lighter or darker, but too much mixing around could make the dye a little muddy.” Ruff shrugged, and scratched at a dragon when it offered it's chin, “Oh _yes_ aren't you cute-”

“Hey, paws off! They need to wait fair ‘n square!” Tuff arrived to drag her away.

“No, _you_ paws-off!” she planted her heels in the cobbles, “Tuff _nut!”_

Well, looks like that wasn't changing any time soon.

“Were they always like that?” Ruadhán asked over a Featherfall’s neck.

“As long as I've known ‘em, and probably longer.” Eret answered, “I think they're turning a corner though, finally. One less thing for Hiccup to worry about.”

“And I'm sure Freya herself would thank you, Hiccup and Astrid both have enough on their plates.” Valka snorted, ushering another dozen dragons along.

A thrill bolted through him like lightning, “We haven't introduced you to Affan and Ghadir yet! She must've, well, gone _with-child_ about the same time as Astrid, they say that brings good luck. An old wives’ tale of course, but in all the world, _my_ family and yours, at the same time? It was meant to be! You’ll _love_ Ghadir, she has a spark for life like you wouldn't believe-”

And, Valka did of course. Language was no barrier to those two, when it came to dragons or Ghadir’s art... But the thought of León to the north, Normandy and Angleland and more in _every_ direction… it weighed on him like the whole of the ocean.

Luckily, Naji agreed, and some of the council convened for an informal meeting soon after dinner, minus Khayran.

“Traders, from _that_ far east?” the Master of Ships gawped.

“Drawn _here_ from as far as Roma.” he continued, “And this concerns me. We’ve already had one try at invasion, in another months the whole of Europa and beyond could know. We can defend ourselves from the sea, but an invasion over land… that means getting through the whole of the caliphate first. We must warn them.”

“I'm sure they are well aware of the _possibility,_ but this is valuable information nonetheless. These traders, are they still here?” the Treasurer stroked his beard.

“Yes, they had planned to stay and see the city. And one of the leaders on the merchant fleet speaks their language, so we can find out more.” he said.

“Who they heard this from, or how they came to know is the most pressing matter.” the Master of Ships frowned, “Rumor is natural, but military and conspirator talk… that could be dangerous. Find out when you can, and we’ll send a letter off tomorrow.”

“Understood. The evening is still young, so I'll make an effort now, and try again in the morning if I must. Thank you, for humoring me.” 

“No my boy, thank _you_ for thinking swiftly. It's good to have a little energy around in the council, it keeps us young!” the Treasurer chortled.

“It keeps _you_ young, it's giving me an ulcer.” the Master of Ships groused.

He had his answers within the hour. The traders had ingrained themselves with the northern crew, more for the music and atmosphere than conversation, but he managed to pull Chaghatai and the… father? aside for questioning. Relief came in an instant. Tavern talk was the source, plus a few drawings, from multiple ports between Roma and al-Andalus. _Zhou,_ that was his name, he’d picked up enough Andalusi to piece things together and get all the way here. Impressive really, and good news to send to Jarrah. They should be wary still, but there was no threat looming on every horizon.

He hoped.

But, it was getting late. He had what he needed and his family would be missing him, so he bid his goodnights and **called** Tyrian down from the mast. He’d just gotten one foot in a stirrup when something caught the back of his shirt, tugging insistently. **Help** a dragon- _Blue_ keened, before tugging again.

“Wait, what’s wrong? Come now, let go and show me properly.” he scolded.

 **Help** the Windwolf pressed, letting go of his clothes to wind about him, pushing and shoving, herding him towards the back of the ship, to stairs for the rear walks. As music and merriment faded, other voices rose, quiet but growing louder… and angry.

“Why won't you _tell me_ anything? I'm not a baby anymore Dad!”

“Ori please, it's not-”

“I know it's ‘not that easy’, but no ones telling me anything! What’re you so _afraid_ of?!”

“Losing _you!”_

There was a long beat before he just-heard Ori mutter, “Cassian said the same thing.”

“What-”

“And he wouldn't say anything _either,_ nothing but stopping dragons from being used for war again. What does he _mean_ ‘again’? Is that it?”

...oops.

Blue hauled against his back, whining **hurt, help!** and he nearly fell out into the open. **Stop** he scolded, catching the dragon around the neck to pin his head close. **Go! Help!** Blue growled, and spread his wings.

“No, Blue _no_ you stop that!” he yelped.

With one wingbeat Blue threw them both forward, scrabbling and scraping across the deck, grating his cheek and arm fiery-raw. Fine, he’ll play _dirty._ It took s good bit of leverage to twist, scratch down Blue’s jaw-

And the dragon gurgled as he went limp, flopping across the deck like a boned fish.

“Little brat…” he groaned, staggering to his feet, “Fucking  _wood-”_

“What’re _you_ doing here?” Ori snapped.

“Thank your dragon, I had no intention of intruding.” he grimaced, this was all bleeding for sure, “And apologies to the men that’ll be scrubbing my skin out of the planks.”

“It's fine, this is- this is nothing.” Ragnar tried to brush it all off.

“It's _not_ nothing, I want the truth!” Ori seethed.

“Ragnar.” he cut in, heavy and weary, “The longer you leave it, the more it will fester. I've _been_ in your son’s place, and I wasn't much older when I gave up on waiting. The whole reason I was even _in_ the north was because my father refused to tell the truth, and you saw how that ended last year. Don't make the same mistakes he did.”

“But I-”

“It's not an order Ragnar, it's a warning. I haven't said a word, it was never my place. I can't bear this for you.” and as much as it pained him, he left.

Tyrian collected him at the rail and fussed over his wounds, only half as much as Eret would, he was sure. They winged home and landed in the courtyard, all too ready for bed. Once he cleaned up of course… at least these weren't his good clothes.

“What happened?” Eret was on him before the door even closed, tracing the wound on his cheek.

“Blue tried to swab the deck with me.” he sighed, “And… Ori wanted the truth out of Ragnar. Which is what drove Blue to enlist me, and I only stayed long enough to tell him he’d drive his son away with more secrets.”

“Damn…” Eret frowned hard, brows knitting tight as he pinched-

Cassian hissed as a splinter dragged free from his cheek, and his skin crawled where he was suddenly aware of more of the damn things.

“Let's get you cleaned up, before anything festers.” his sweet, dutiful husband murmured.

It burned something fierce, getting all the grit out of him, washing off the blood and sweat until he felt almost-human again. Then he went right to bed, for the sake of all the politicking they’d have to do tomorrow…

And at the crack of dawn, someone had the steel-spined gall to _prod him awake._

“Piss off.” he groaned, pulling a pillow over his head.

That didn't stop a dragon from shoving its nose under to join him, filling the little pocket of air with hot, smoky breath. **Up, help** a voice pressed, and a tongue swiped across his nose for good measure, but there was a vision creeping in.

Blue, curled around Ori, making a bed out of their table cushions. That was sweet…

Wait. That was their living room. Right now. Ori was in their home. _Right now._

He shot up and flailed out of bed, electrified with shock but still boneless from sleep as he tripped over a dragon, then fell through the drapes. Thank God for rugs, but sweet _mercy_ that still hurt, it’d be a miracle if the scabs didn't tear. After a swift rustle of fabric, a Fury- Lil’ Crush, of course it was, nosed under his arm, then chest, hoisting him to his feet.

“Alright little brat… this really couldn't wait?” he groaned again as he scrubbed the grit from his eyes, “How long have they _been_ here?”

Crush made a noise that sounded like a far-too-human ‘I dunno’ and dragged him onward. It was dark still, he had to rely on the Fury’s eyes to see anything properly and even then he almost tripped over the Windwolf’s long tail. The wall-screens were pushed aside, that explains how they got in, but… when, and why? He doubted Ragner knew, the man must be worried sick. Ori would probably sleep as long as they let him, it shouldn't be hard to send word over.

Oh… Ruadhán was going to be in for quite a shock. As if the day couldn't get _worse…_

No point in going back to sleep now, he supposed. So, he lit a lamp and fetched their letter kit to start writing, occasionally sneaking glancing across the table at the pile of boy and dragon. Crush made a few anxious circuits of the room before settling against his back, quivering with **worry.** Poor thing.. His heart was as big and tender as his rider’s.

“We’ll set this right, don't you worry…” he murmured, stroking the dragon’s brow.

The sun rose and he wrote, slowly collecting his thoughts. Finish the damn letter first, _then_ worry about their uninvited guest. Get out the facts- sailors and traders were spreading the word of dragons far and wide, so far it was just tavern-talk but they should be wary… and Montpellier deserved a warning too. Another letter then, don't let the distractions in just yet.

Cassian was actually awake to collect breakfast, much to the attendant’s surprise, and his husband emerged soon after, slumping into his spot with his eyes barely open.

“M’rnin.” Eret rumbled, leaning hard on his shoulder, “What’re you doin’ up?”

“Crush woke me, it seems we have a guest.” he gestured across the room.

It took a long moment, staring hard and blinking slow, before awareness struck with a _snap._

“When did he get here?” Eret hissed, going ramrod straight.

“No idea, but we need to let Ragnar know as soon as possible.” he said.

“I'll go.” Eret’s stomach rumbled, “...after breakfast.”

“He’ll sleep a while longer I'm sure, I'll wait for him.” he frowned, aching twice over, “He’s bound to have questions, or need help…”

Eret nodded, gathered some fruit and bread to eat quickly, and then readied himself for the day. It was quiet after he left, with just the breathing of dragons filling the room until Ruadhán finally woke. He quickly silenced the boy before he could speak.

“Shh, he’s still asleep.” he whispered, “Eret’s already off to tell his family.”

Ru eased down next to him, eyes wide with shock, “When did he get in?”

“No idea. Here, eat something. I think we’ll both need to skip practice today.”

“It must've been bad.” Ru mused, “That talk I mean. To come running up here…”

“We’ll do everything we can, and make sure he gets home.” he promised, “Might have to wake him up.”

Ru hummed, nibbling on a few grapes before asking, “Did you know him before? This year I mean.”

“Who, Ori?” he blinked, and Ru nodded, “Yes, well before. Our paths crossed when Ragnar was on his first voyage south, shortly after the trappers disbanded. I was on a hunting trip with Snotlout in Angleland, getting that wolf fur there, and we were grounded by a storm on the way home. Ori was lost in the thick of it, swept overboard and by the grace of God he found his way to our cave. Didn't know who he was then of course, not until we got him back to his parents the next day.”

“Wow…” Ru breathed, “He swam through a whole storm?”

 _“And_ climbed a cliff in the dark, through wind and rain. I only had to haul him up the last foot or two!” he shook his head fondly, “And he took to dragons like a duck to water, same as you. But he's on the verge of choosing his own path now, and Ragnar may well have tipped a scale. In what direction… I couldn't guess.”

“I'm not going back.” a sullen voice cut the silence that followed, so rough he and Ru both jolted.

Ori sat up slowly, like a puppet with tangled strings, and scrubbed his puffy, red eyes.

“He's been _faking_ it all this time, they all have.” the boy sniffed, and buried his face in his knees, “He's a liar, everything was a _lie.”_

“Ori, you know that's not true!” his said, louder than he meant to, “Yes, he may have lied about what he did or where he went, but what you see here and now is _real._ He's not the only trapper to turn his back on that life, and you can believe me when I say that they _can_ change for the better. Eret did, and _his_ father did too. Even Hiccup’s father killed dragons, _all_ of Berk did, and they changed.”

“That's different, he- he's killed people, he almost killed _you!”_

“My hands are hardly bloodless.” he mumbled, heart sinking like a stone, “And I very much wanted to kill _him,_ so in that we are more or less at a stalemate.”

Sniffling hard, Ori lifted his head a fraction and slowly asked, “Why didn't you?”

“I had him at my mercy, knives to his throat, a warmonger that abused dragons and nearly killed the man I loved the very day he asked me to marry him. But I noticed something, a leather cord with a pendant made by a _child’s_ hands. Four shapes all nested together; children, a mother and father.” he breathed deep and wet his lips, “A family. That's proved to be my weakness, and I couldn't take a father from his children. There’d been far too much of that, and _someone_ had to choose to stop. So I did. And now, here you are.”

“Why was he even _out_ there?” Ori sniffed, “Sure our village was small, but our farm was good. Lots of sheep ‘n goats…”

“Only _he_ knows for sure. But, what father doesn't want the world for his children? A world bigger than sheep and goats and farming. And when a monster in man’s clothing comes, weaving sweet promises of riches and safety, if only they follow _him…”_ oh, how he wanted to spit at Drago’s memory, “I can't fault him for hoping. And by the time he realized he was in too deep, your father never would have made it back to you alive. That's how Drago worked-”

“Lure them in, demand more and more, then make an example of the first men to fail.” his husband cut in, closing the door behind himself, “Ragnar was lucky to last so long, didn't take three years for me to earn Drago’s mark.”

Eret sat and slowly, hesitantly, tugged his collar down to bare a corner of his scar. It was only a fraction, but Ori’s eyes still went wide with recognition.

“Tattoos, brands… it's all the same in the end. But we put the bastard down ourselves, and we’ll stop if from ever happening again. _This_ from happening.” Eret sighed low, “Told your dad you're here with us. Take whatever time you need, but… you should go back. At some point.”

Ori nodded once, just the barest twitch of her head.

“And, here.” Eret pushed the breakfast tray over, “You'll feel a little better with something in your belly.”

 **Maybe a few distractions would help him get back into sorts…** he mused.

 **Invite him along to practice?** Eret offered, **Blue’s still got his saddle.**

Invite him along they did, and Ori threw himself into it whole-heartedly. It would be good for him to learn more, the fleet wouldn't be here forever after all. The saddlery came after, there was far too waiting on them to skip work entirely, but Ori was content to help, fetching leather and tools, holding canvas while it was riveted in, and all the while Ruadhán watched like a hawk. For what, he didn't know, but there really wasn't any more they could do.

Near mid-afternoon, Ori caught him by the sleeve, all drawn and tired.

“I'm going back. Thanks for… all of that. This.” the boy sagged, “And you were right, about not telling me. I probably wouldn't’ve believed you.”

“I swear, if I thought it would help I would have said something. But you were too young then to really understand what it meant.” hesitantly, he squeezed Ori’s shoulder, “I'll walk you over. Blue- you'll need to wake up dear heart.”

It was a quiet walk. Ori leaned hard on his dragon the whole way, eyes downcast and hidden in the fall of his hair. The long dock was practically empty, so by the time they crested the gangplank Ragnar had already been summoned. The poor man looked like death warmed over, and Ori- he _rushed_ to his father, already weeping as he threw his arms around the man’s middle. And like that they stayed, for a time, until Ori spoke.

“I'm still mad.” he sniffled, “All of that- it was _stupid.”_

 _“I- I know.”_ Ragnar sobbed into his son’s hair, “I don't deserve-”

“Stopit. I'm not going anywhere.” Ori squeezed even harder, “Gotta make sure you _stay_ good.”

The crew made some effort to avert their eyes and Cassian turned to leave, but something moved at the helm- Griselda and Chaghatai emerging, just as tired but… they looked grateful, and nodded silently. He returned the gesture, and made his way back to the workshop. His own family was waiting.


End file.
